Pure Romance: A collection of Junjou Romantica oneshots
by Squidalicious
Summary: A compilation of cute, funny and occasionally angsty short stories for those craving some Romantica fluff. Completely Misaki/Akihiko-centric. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: An ill-considered plan

**A/N: So, I have a bunch of ideas for Romantica oneshots, and since they're mostly fluff with not much plot, I decided it would be easiest to post them all under the same story. This is going to be 99.9% fanservice and humour (or at least, my attempt at humour), so if you're after a story with actual plot and character development, check out my other fic 'Mistakes'. Also, since this fic is made up of individual stories, it probably won't be updated that regularly- just when I have an idea for a oneshot.**

 **So, to the fans of Romantica fluff and cuteness: I hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

 **1) An ill-considered plan**

 **Summary: After coming down with a fever, Akihiko gets a little too used to the ensuing special treatment from Misaki. (Maybe slight OOC, but it's just because Usagi-san is sick!)**

 _ **This is my first ever oneshot (I'm used to writing longer stuff), and I haven't quite got the knack of them, so please do tell me what you think.**_

* * *

"Usagi-san, it's time to get up!"

Underneath the heavy comforter, Akihiko groaned. He'd been up until four in the morning, rushing the last thirty-odd pages of his newest manuscript for Aikawa-san. The author had felt like death when he finally crawled into bed beside his boyfriend, and now that said boyfriend had roused him, he felt even worse- if that was possible. A dull ache had formed in his temples, steadily growing as Akihiko became more and more awake.

"Come on, Usagi," came Misaki's irritated voice, "You have a meeting in two hours. Aikawa-san's already mad that you missed the deadline- you don't want to keep her waiting."

"Alright, alright…" It came out a lot raspier than Akihiko expected. He winced as he spoke; his throat felt like it had been sandpapered.

Up until then, Misaki had been nudging at the novelist in an attempt to get him out of bed, but now his movements had stilled.

"Woah, you sound terrible." Pulling the bedsheets down, Akihiko was met with a pair of worried, green eyes. "Are you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

"I'm fine," he croaked, trying but failing to push himself up. What the hell was wrong with him this morning? His muscles ached as if he'd run a marathon the day before. Akihiko had pulled countless all-nighters before, and they'd never taken this much of a toll on him.

"Usagi-san?"

He coughed a few times. "Give me a hand up, will you?" he said, extending- with some difficulty- an arm to the younger.

Misaki's small hand grasped his- and dropped it almost immediately. "Usagi-san, your hands are so warm!"

Before Akihiko knew what was happening, Misaki was kneeling by the bed, pushing the author's silver bangs out of the way so he could press a hand to his forehead. There was a quiet gasp in Akihiko's ear.

"You're boiling…"

The panic in the boy's voice touched Akihiko. He didn't want Misaki to be worried, however, so he sat up, arms wobbling beneath him.

"It's fine, Misaki," he said despite the wave of dizziness that swept over him, "I'll be… I'll be alright after a coffee…"

God, he _was_ boiling. When another cough racked his form, a pair of hand took him by the shoulders, pushing him gently but firmly back into the pillows.

"No, don't get up," Misaki said, rising quickly to his feet, "Let me take your temperature…"

As he left the room, Akihiko blinked. It was unlike Misaki to _encourage_ him to stay in bed... Maybe he really wasn't well, after all. He frowned. This didn't make sense; Akihiko Usami didn't get sick. However- as if to prove him wrong- another coughing fit suddenly attacked him, bringing Misaki hurrying back with the thermometer.

"A hundred and one degrees," he said, staring at the tiny screen in dismay, "You _are_ sick. Oh, poor Usagi-san!"

Weary, lavender eyes widened when Misaki threw his arms around the author's neck, and they widened further still at the sensation of soft lips, pressed into Akihiko's hair. Did Misaki just… kiss him? Without blushing or shying away or anything?

"This is my fault…" said Misaki miserably, clutching him to his chest, "I'm so sorry, Usagi."

Stunned, Akihiko took a few seconds to reply. "What are you talking about?" he said, muffled by Misaki's hooded sweatshirt, "You didn't cause my fever."

"I shouldn't have nagged you to finish that book," he mumbled, "If you'd just gotten a good night's rest, maybe…"

"Misaki," Akihiko rasped, pulling back to look his boyfriend in the face, "It's not your fault."

Even so, Misaki still looked remorseful. A sigh escaped the author; he hated the way Misaki would beat himself up over things that had nothing to do with him. His sadness was replaced by surprise, however, when the younger man laid him down once more and (had he died last night and gone to heaven?) planted a loving kiss on Akihiko's burning brow.

"Don't worry, Usagi-san," he said, and Akihiko's heart fluttered, "I'll make sure you get better in no time."

With that, he dashed away- probably to start making breakfast. Akihiko laid back and closed his eyes. Even in spite of his pounding head, his sore limbs and his burning skin, he smiled. Perhaps being ill wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

Although Akihiko insisted otherwise, Misaki had called Mitsuhashi to say that he couldn't attend school that day. On the one hand, Akihiko didn't want Misaki to fall behind, especially since he'd worked so hard at his studies. On the other hand… he was happy that Misaki wanted to take care of him so badly.

Very, very happy indeed.

At mid-morning that day, Akihiko was propped up against the extra pillows his boyfriend had provided, Suzuki-san tucked in beside him. On the bedside table was a large tray, laden with the remnants of the delicious breakfast that had been cooked for him. Already, Akihiko was starting to feel better; all thanks to his boyfriend's selflessness.

With a contented sigh, he leaned against the giant bear's golden fur. "I'm a lucky guy, eh, Suzuki-san?"

There was a soft _click_ as the door opened. Misaki reappeared, carrying a glass of water in one hand and a fresh, damp towel in the other.

"Here you go, Usagi-san," he said, handing him the drink and replacing the old rag on his forehead with the colder one. Akihiko smiled gratefully, long fingers grazing Misaki's cheek.

"Thank you, my love."

Unlike usual, Misaki didn't scowl or reprimand him for saying such embarrassing things. Instead, he leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose, and Akihiko felt weak with happiness. Who knew it only took a fever and some coughing to turn Misaki into such a sweetheart?

"I found some fever reducer in the bathroom," the boy was saying, reaching into his pocket and producing a small bottle. He shook a couple of red capsules into his hand. "You need to take two now, and two this afternoon, okay?"

 _I wonder… how far is he willing to go, exactly?_ An idea forming in his mind, Akihiko looked pleadingly up at Misaki.

"Will you feed them to me?"

"Sure, I guess," he said, holding a capsule out between finger and thumb. But the author shook his head.

"That's not what I meant."

Misaki's brow furrowed briefly before understanding dawned on him. "Um," he said doubtfully, "Is that really necessary, Usagi-san?"

Akihiko made his amethyst eyes as large and doleful as he could. "Please? It would make me feel better…"

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Misaki rolled his eyes but relented. "Fine," he said, taking the glass of water.

A small smile appeared on Akihiko's face as he watched his boyfriend take a sip of water before tossing both pills into his mouth. Simultaneously, they closed their eyes as their lips met. Misaki gently parted Akihiko's with his own, and he accepted the medicine; it was warm from Misaki's mouth.

He was tempted to deepen the kiss (despite feeling so ill), but unfortunately, Misaki drew back as soon as Akihiko had swallowed. Pink dusted the boy's cheeks, and the author's grin widened.

"I can't believe you actually agreed to that."

Embarrassed, Misaki scowled, but his face was softened with care. "Only because you're sick."

"I love you," Akihiko said, nuzzling his nose against that of the younger. And the fever must have been making him delirious, because Misaki looked down, bit his lower lip and said:

"Me, too."

* * *

The following day, Akihiko was still feverish, and Misaki skipped school again. Another headache plagued the author, and Misaki laid his head in his lap and massaged it. When the pain went away, Akihiko didn't say so, and he drifted off to the gentle stroking of Misaki's fingers through his ash-blonde hair.

The day after that, his temperature had cooled considerably, and his throat didn't hurt nearly as much. Misaki (intertwined with Akihiko in their bed) woke up and immediately asked how he was feeling.

Akihiko took one look at Misaki's emerald green eyes- brimming with concern and such open affection- and just couldn't help himself.

"I'm still not feeling too good, Misaki," he rasped, coughing a little for effect, "I think I need another day in bed."

Misaki's face fell. "Oh, you poor thing," he said, wrapping Akihiko in the millionth hug those couple of days, "Okay, Usagi-san- you get plenty of rest today until you're better." Biting his lip, he glanced away uncertainly. "Though, I'm not sure I can afford to miss another day of school…"

Though he was a little disappointed that he wouldn't have another day of being fussed over by Misaki, Akihiko smiled. "That's okay. Just give me something to get me through the day, and I'll let you go."

His teasing grin told Misaki what he meant. Shaking his head, he kissed Akihiko anyway, softly and sweetly.

"Feel better soon, okay?" he said when they broke apart, holding the author at arm's length. "You still sound really bad, Usagi. Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," he said. Guilt stirred in his stomach at the sight of Misaki's worried expression. Maybe he shouldn't milk it… Should he really be taking advantage of his boyfriend's kindness just because he enjoyed being coddled?

The younger pulled him in for another kiss, and Akihiko melted back into the pillows. Well, what Misaki didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

 _I wonder if I can make this last…_

* * *

"Okay, let me see the thermometer," said Misaki that evening. Bundled up on the deep pink couch, Akihiko removed the device that was burning on his tongue.

Green eyes nearly popped out of Misaki's head. "One hundred and ten degrees?!"

 _Whoops._ He must have left the thermometer in his tea for too long.

"Maybe it's broken…" he said, not forgetting to add the croak to his voice. Misaki frowned at the tiny numbers on the screen.

"Still, you should really be better by now…" Running a hand through Akihiko's hair, he studied his face closely. "Maybe I should call a doctor for you."

"No," he said quickly- too quickly. _Careful, now._ "That's probably not necessary," he went on, smiling weakly from where he lay on the couch, "The only doctor I need is Misaki."

Though Misaki seemed pleased at this, the frown didn't disappear from his face. "But I've tried everything…" he said as he tucked Akihiko's blanket more snugly around him. Suddenly, his brow cleared. "How about a nice bath? That might make you feel better."

Akihiko hid his sly smile with a cough. "That would be nice… I might need your help, though," he added, giving his boyfriend the 'puppy-dog eyes' he'd perfected over the last few days.

"You're not strong enough to do it yourself?"

Sighing dramatically, the author rubbed his shoulder. "I _am_ still pretty sore," he lied, "But, I suppose I could do it myself…"

"No, I'll help you!" Misaki said, as expected. Pushing Akihiko back down, he hurried away towards the stairs. "Just let me draw the bath for you first."

Akihiko grinned to himself as he heard the taps turn on. Suzuki-san eyed him disapprovingly from the other end of the couch, and he huffed.

"Oh, come on. Just a little longer…"

* * *

Peeking through the crack in the office door, Akihiko tapped his foot impatiently. He wanted to leave the university and get home, but a seemingly endless torrent of students was gushing along the corridor.

"Oy," came the surly assistant professor's voice, "Are you going, or what? I've got work to do here."

"Just a minute, Hiroki," Akihiko muttered. He didn't know why his friend was trying to shoo him out; if he hadn't demanded Akihiko bring back the book he'd borrowed, he wouldn't be in Hiroki's office in the first place. "I have to wait until everyone's back in class, or Misaki might see me…"

Taking out his glasses, Hiroki grabbed a stack of test papers and clicked his red marking pen. "Why are you hiding from him, again?"

"Well, if he sees me, he'll know I'm only pretending to be sick."

"Uh-huh," said Hiroki, raising an eyebrow without looking up, "And why, exactly, is the great Akihiko Usami-sensei pretending he's sick?"

"So Misaki will want to look after me," he said, smirking, "I've finally discovered the secret to bringing out his sweet side."

Rust-coloured eyes narrowed as Hiroki looked up at his friend. "You know, that's pretty sly, Akihiko."

The smirk vanished. "I know, I know," he said, sighing, "It's just that he's usually so… inhibited. Now that he's being affectionate for once, I just want to savour it. Is that such a bad thing?" he asked, glancing back over at the professor, who was scribbling corrections on his students' work.

Hiroki shrugged. "Your call, I guess," he said, and tossed his cinnamon head towards the now empty corridor. "Now, go home, already."

The author left as quickly as he could, praying that Misaki wouldn't see him through a window or something. He still had an hour before his boyfriend came home from school, so he was in plenty of time to get home and play the part of poor, sick, needy Usagi-san.

 _Just one more day_ , he told himself, _one more day, and then I'll stop._

Unlocking his red sports car- which he'd parked just outside the university gates- he sped back to the condo, where he wrapped himself up in his cosy, bear-patterned blanket, picked up a book, and read peacefully until Misaki came home.

He was a little later than expected. However, when the door swung open and Misaki's greeting rang out, Akihiko realised from the carrier bags in his hands that it was just because his boyfriend had been to the supermarket.

"Feeling any better, Usagi-san?" he asked in a sugar-coated voice. As the brunette set his groceries down on the kitchen counter, Akihiko coughed weakly.

"A little," he said, sitting up as Misaki approached, "I should be fine by tomorrow."

Emerald eyes smiled shut. "That's great!" He grinned at the author. "You're in for a treat, Usagi-san. I've got all the ingredients for an awesome dinner tonight- _and_ ," he added, leaning in close to Akihiko's face, "I've got a little extra something for you to help you get better."

He mirrored the boy's suggestive smile. Excitement tingled through him. "And what might that be?"

Misaki slapped him across the face.

" _Ouch_!" he yelped, one hand flying to his cheek, "Misaki, what the hell?!"

His boyfriend glared right back, fists clenched by his sides. "It serves you right, you big faker!"

Akihiko paled. A sizzling, seething aura radiated off of Misaki as he stammered, "Wh-what makes you-?"

"I saw your car outside Mitsuhashi," he fumed, crossing his arms, "So, you can't bathe yourself or even get out of bed, but you can drive?"

 _Damn_. Akihiko swallowed. He glanced away guiltily, and when he looked back, Misaki's expression wasn't just one of annoyance, but of hurt.

"I can't believe you'd lie like that," he said, "I was so worried about you- especially when you weren't getting better- when really, you were faking it the whole time! Jerk!"

"Okay, okay, it's true- but it wasn't the _whole_ time." Misaki arched an eyebrow, and he went on, "I really was sick at first, I swear. But then, I…" he hung his head, "It was so nice having you take care of me, I just… didn't want it to end."

Daring to look up again, he saw that Misaki had averted his gaze. His cheeks were bright pink- though possibly not just from anger. "Th-that still doesn't make it okay…"

"I know." Cautiously, he reached out to touch Misaki's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

He scowled, narrowing his eyes as he stood up and stalked towards the kitchen. Akihiko followed.

"Hmph. Next time you're sick, don't expect any sympathy from me," he eventually huffed, unloading the plastic carrier bags onto the counter.

"Fair enough," Akihiko sighed. Leaning against the counter, he looked across at Misaki and chanced a smile. "So, what's this awesome dinner we're having?"

To his surprise, Misaki smiled back- a brilliant, sunshiny smile.

"Chinese stir-fry," he said, and showed Akihiko the contents of the biggest, bulging bag, "With _plenty_ of green peppers."

* * *

 **So, what did you think? Should I write more of these? Thanks for reading and please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Speak Up

**Finally got around to writing another oneshot! My main fic, 'Mistakes' is all kind of doom and gloom at the moment, so I decided to write something a bit silly for a change XD I hope you guys enjoy it!**

* * *

 **2) Speak Up**

 **Summary: The long-awaited _Junai Romantica_ anime is finally in production, but the author of the original novels has made a rather unusual request...**

 _ **I've never written anything quite like this... Opinions are welcome! :)**_

* * *

Under different circumstances, Misaki might have enjoyed seeing a recording studio for the first time. It was certainly a cool place; enormous screens, speakers and microphones glinted in the bluish light all around him, and there was a constant, electrical ensemble of whirring, buzzing, beeping noises, giving the place a futuristic feel.

At least, that was what it was like on the other side of the window. Misaki, however, was currently stood stiffly by himself in a bare, wood-panelled room behind the glass. A pair of too-tight headphones were crushing his ears; a silver microphone hovered expectantly in front of his face. As he stared at the script in his hands, a muscle in his cheek twitched.

 _Why did I say I'd do this?_

A few feet away, behind the glass, a man was sitting before a large and very complex-looking control panel, covered with countless buttons and switches and dials. At Misaki's silence, he leaned forwards and spoke into his own microphone.

"Please read the line, Takahashi-kun."

His voice boomed in Misaki's ears, making him wince. He paled as he read the first sentence again.

"Do I have to?"

"Just go for it, Misaki-kun!" cheered Aikawa-san. She was sitting behind the sound engineer on a luxurious leather couch. Beside her, patiently sipping coffee from a paper cup, was the origin of Misaki current predicament.

He glared at Usagi-san, who watched him with a calm, lavender gaze. _This is all your fault!_

… Well, it was partly Misaki's fault for agreeing to this in the first place. If only he wasn't such a pushover… But, he'd let the pleading words and pouting faces and puppy-dog eyes of others sway him yet again, and now there was no way out. This was so unfair...

Whose stupid idea was it to make a _Junai Romantica_ anime, anyway?!

Misaki swallowed. He didn't want to do this. Not one bit. But everyone was staring at him, waiting, and Misaki felt like a trapped animal; that live room might as well have been a cage. So, he squared his shoulders in resolution. The group watched him eagerly through the glass screen. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath, opened his mouth and began:

"Oh, Akihiko-san, you're so beautiful. Please-"

"Um, Takahashi-kun?"

One green eye opened. "Yeah?"

The small technical crew were all frowning. Behind the control panel, the recording engineer scratched the back of his head.

"Um, could you put a little more… expression into it?"

Misaki blinked. "Uh, sorry. I'm a little nervous…" Actually, nerves had little to do with it. _Longing to curl up and die of mortification_ was more like it.

"That's okay," the guy- Misaki had forgotten his name- assured him, "Just try to sound a bit more energetic, okay?"

"O-okay…"

Clearing his throat, he tried again.

"Oh, Akihiko-san, you're _so_ beautiful," he said, trying to sound like the swoony, lovesick Misaki Usagi-san wrote him as. He faltered, however, at the next line.

"P-please, take me. I n-need you in… in…"

The poor young man could feel his face flush as he stuttered into the microphone. He tried to finish the line, but no words would come out. The technical crew were starting to look a little exasperated, while Aikawa-san chewed her coloured lower lip anxiously. Usagi-san, on the other hand, had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Misaki's fingers tore into the script, face growing even redder.

Shitty Usagi!

"Could you try that last part again, Takahashi-kun?" said the guy behind the panel.

Shuddering, Misaki swallowed the bile in his throat. "I… I need you inside of me..."

 _I cannot believe I just said that._

Usagi-san's broad shoulders were now shaking as he fought to contain his laughter. The various others had begun muttering to one another, frowning. One of them- a guy in a suit who Misaki was pretty sure was the director of the anime- leaned over the recording engineer to speak into the microphone.

"What are you playing at, Takahashi?" he demanded, "You're supposed to sound like a person, not a robot!"

"Leave him alone," said Aikawa-san, "He's never done anything like this before."

The director's sigh crackled loudly through Misaki's headphones. "He's too wooden," he said, "Why has he got this part? Why haven't we hired a professional voice actor?"

"Akikawa-sensei said we had to use Takahashi-kun and Usami-san, sir," a young woman beside him piped up, "Otherwise, she wouldn't sell us the rights to _Junai Romantica_."

"But _why_?" the director grumbled. His shoulders heaved. "Whatever. More real boy, less Pinocchio please, Takahashi."

"I'm sorry…" Misaki mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Why don't we try a different line?" said the recording engineer kindly.

But the script only got worse and worse as Misaki stammered his way through it. He tried to follow the director's instructions- to sound passionate, loving, longing- but the lines were all so embarrassing! With so many people watching him, Misaki could barely manage to choke out the words, let alone make them sound convincing.

" _I love you so much, Akihiko-san…" "Please, stop… It feels like it's melting…" "Touch me more, touch me more…" "Akihiko-san, make me wet and dirty all over…"_

 _Who WROTE this thing?!_ Misaki screamed internally. This script was worse than the original book, for crying out loud!

A few dozen cringe-worthy utterances later (during which Usagi-san actually had to leave the room), the director braced his hands on the control panel, releasing a long breath in frustration.

"That'll have to do for now," said the recording engineer. His hair was dishevelled, and he had dark semi-circles under his eyes. "Let's do one last line."

By this point, Misaki was silently willing the live room floor to open up and swallow him whole, but he thumbed through the script and found the page. Reluctantly, he started reading.

"Akihiko-san," he said, the words self-consciously flat no matter how hard he tried, "I want you to… to…"

 _Wait… What the…?!_

Green eyes bulged as they skimmed over the line. Misaki turned beet red, rooted to the spot as his brain struggled to comprehend the obscenity he held in his hands. Never in his life had he read anything so… so… so utterly, unspeakably sordid. It was filthy. It was stomach-turning. A strangulated noise became trapped in Misaki's throat. How in the hell was this allowed to be aired on TV?!

 _I thought those things Usagi-san says in the bedroom were as dirty as it gets…_ How very, very wrong he'd been. The line was so vulgar it made Misaki want to tear his own eyes out and eat them.

 _It's no use. It can't be unseen. Nothing will ever cleanse my soul of this atrocity…_

"Read the line, Takahashi!"

" _Are you kidding?!"_ he yelled, practically breathing fire, "I'm not saying that!"

Aikawa-san giggled, and the director clasped his forehead in one hand. "Oh, for God's sake…"

At that moment, Usagi-san strolled back into the room, straightening his navy tie. He'd regained his composure, but his cheeks were still slightly pink, and his lips were clamped tightly together as if he were trying to hold back more laughter. The script crumpled in Misaki's hands; he was going to slaughter that rabbit…

"What did I miss?"

"Not a lot…" the director muttered.

"Here's an idea," said Aikawa-san, rising from the couch, "Why don't you leave the lines until Misaki-kun has had more time to practise?" Casually, she added, "For now, he could just do all the moaning and sighing sounds for the sex scenes."

Misaki jolted, and Usagi-san smirked wickedly. "That's a fantastic idea, Aikawa-san."

"Aikawa-san! That's even _worse_!" Misaki shrieked.

But the director and the rest of the crew were nodding.

"That could work," said the guy behind the panel, "Give it a go, Takahashi-kun."

Helplessly, Misaki stood frozen in front of the microphone. The live room seemed to be smouldering. His lower lip trembled along with his voice as he tried to speak.

"I-I can't…"

Usagi-san chose that moment to chime in with a suggestion.

"Just do what you did last night."

A resounding _RI-I-IP_ rang loud and clear through the speakers as Misaki tore the script in two.

" _That's it!_ " he yelled, hurling the ruined wad of paper to the ground, "I quit!"

He stormed out of the live room, yanking off his headphones and slamming them on the table next to a rather taken-aback director.

"Find someone else to play Misaki! I'm done with this!"

The director frowned. "But, Akikawa-sensei said-"

"I don't care _what_ that jerk says!" Misaki fumed, "This is the most disgusting anime ever created and I want no part of it!"

"That's rude," came a smoky drawl from behind him, "I'm sure Akikawa-sensei only wants to hear you say something beautiful and romantic rather than screeching your head off for a change."

Eyes narrowed to slits, Misaki spun on his heel and stalked towards Usagi-san, who looked thoroughly amused. He was quivering with anger.

"Really?" he said, grabbing a copy of the nightmare-inducing script and waving it in the author's face. "You think this trash is 'beautiful and romantic'? _Really_?" He thrust his face towards Usagi-san's wide-eyed one. "Because if you ask _me_ , 'Yayoi Akikawa' is nothing but a sick, twisted pervert with no morals and whose shitty BL novels aren't worth the paper they're printed on! And if 'she' tries to make me use my voice to help produce this _abomination_ of an anime, I swear to God, I will bludgeon 'her' to death with her own stupid books!"

He panted after his outburst, fists clenched by his sides. As the director, recording engineer and other staff looked on- expressions ranging from fear to complete and utter bafflement- Usagi-san took one look at Misaki's furious face and chuckled.

"You're just upset because you have no talent for voice acting," he said, making Misaki's jaw drop. Unhurriedly, he sauntered over to the table, picked up a copy of the script and donned Misaki's discarded headphones. He flashed the boy a grin over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes was- there was no other word for it- evil.

"Why don't I show you how it's done?"

Still gaping, Misaki watched with mounting horror as Usagi-san headed for the live room. _No_ , he said telepathically, _don't you_ dare.

Usagi-san just turned to the bewildered recording engineer.

"Shall I begin?"

Exchanging an uncertain glance with the director, the man behind the panel shrugged and flipped a few switches.

"Uh, whenever you're ready, Usami-san."

Flipping nonchalantly through the script, Usagi-san finally settled on a page he liked and adjusted the microphone to his level. A chill ran down Misaki's spine as the author cleared his throat.

 _He's bluffing. He's bluffing. He's-_

"Misaki…"

It was one word. One name. But the voice that spoke it was so seductive, so sultry, that every single person in the control room stopped and stared. There was pin-drop silence.

Usagi-san stood behind the glass window in his headphones, completely composed and not in the least bit embarrassed as he continued. "You are _so_ adorable. Won't you let me pleasure you?"

Lilac eyes were locked onto Misaki's the entire time he was speaking. The boy could feel his whole face catching fire, and yet he was too horrified to look away. Usagi-san's gaze was intense. He looked, for all the world, like he and Misaki were the only two people in the room; his expression was the same as when the two of them were alone in their bedroom, a hungry, almost predatory leer… He totally ignored the director, who was grinning broadly and clapping his hands.

"Now, _this_ is more like it!"

With only a fleeting glance down at the script, the author went on despite Misaki's desperate, pleading stare.

"I want to make you moan, Misaki," he said huskily, "I want you under me and screaming my name."

This was too much. _Please stop…_

"I want to hear you beg…"

 _Stop it!_

"I want to touch you all over…"

"Kyaaa! Sensei!"

"I have to have you, Misaki. I need to be inside you."

Cheeks blazing hotter than a flame, redder than a rose, the poor boy clamped his hands over his ears. "Usagi-san, shut _up_!"

But it wasn't enough to drown out the author's passionate words. He kept reading, each line growing more ardent, more lustful, more unbelievably indecent as the recording crew listened with rapt attention. His eyes never strayed from Misaki once.

The amorous utterances oozed like melted chocolate from the many speakers. Jamming his hands against his ears with all his might, Misaki fought back tears of mortification as he offered up a silent prayer to his beloved brother (wondering as he did so exactly what Takahiro would think if he could see his brother and best friend now…).

 _Nii-chan_ , he implored as Usagi-san's voice rang in his ears, _for the love of God, take me away from here!_

* * *

Misaki didn't even wait for Usagi-san as he slammed the front door shut. The entire condo quaked with each heavy footstep as the boy stamped his way upstairs and into his room. He heard his boyfriend enter the house and call his name, but Misaki ignored him and leapt onto his bed instead. He buried his face in his pillow, cheeks still burning with anger and humiliation and shame.

There was a _squeak_ as the door opened.

"Misaki?"

"Go away."

A low chuckle. "Don't be like that. Didn't you have fun today? I certainly did."

"Shut up!" Misaki's fingers dug into the pillow with his muffled yell. "Just get lost, idiot."

"Misaki, come on…"

"I mean it, Usagi!" he snapped, lifting his head to glare at the author. He was standing in the doorway, looking as smug and stylish as ever; not in the least bit guilty about what he'd just subjected his boyfriend to. "I'll never forgive you for this. This is the worst thing you have ever done to me!"

Shoving his face into the pillow once again, he shuffled away when he felt the mattress dip. A large hand tousled his hair, and he flinched angrily.

"Why are you so upset?"

Exhaling, Misaki rolled onto his back, looking up at Usagi-san's stupidly handsome face. "Why do _you_ always have to embarrass me?" he asked, tears pricking his eyes. "You were so awkward and stubborn about having us be the voice actors just so you could laugh at me."

Usagi-san smiled gently. Leaning down, he propped his head up on his elbow and lay side-by-side with Misaki. "You seriously think I did all this for the sole purpose of embarrassing you?"

"That's exactly why you did it, and you know it," Misaki said, crossing his arms. He tried not to let the familiar scent of tobacco and body soap comfort him as he lay so close to his boyfriend. "And some of those _lines_ ," he added, retching, "I'm going to need therapy after that!"

The author huffed a laugh. "Well, okay… It was funny-"

"It was _not_ funny!"

" _But_ , that's not why I wanted you to voice Misaki Suzuki," he finished. Misaki quirked a sceptical eyebrow.

"Why else would you want me to do it?"

Usagi-san shifted himself so he was lying closer to the younger. "Misaki, you seem to have forgotten that my 'shitty BL novels' are, in fact, my fantasies- however sick and twisted you think they are," he said.

His brow furrowed. _They_ are _sick and twisted…_ "Yeah, so?"

"So, when I got the offer for an anime, I only accepted because I wanted to see my fantasies brought to life." Tenderly, long fingers reached out and brushed Misaki's blushing cheek. "And who better to bring Misaki to life than Misaki himself?"

As lovely as such a sentiment sounded, Misaki was not convinced. Scowling, he turned onto his side to face away from Usagi-san. The author, undeterred, simply closed the gap between them, wrapping an arm around Misaki's waist and pressing their bodies together.

"Whenever I wrote a line of a dialogue in those books, Misaki," he said, his breath warm against the boy's neck, "I dreamed of hearing them in your voice, with my own ears, not just in my head."

Misaki stiffened in his arms. Usagi-san pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his head. "That's why I wanted you to be in the anime. I wouldn't have it any other way."

When Misaki looked over his shoulder, those amethyst eyes were brimming with such warmth that he felt his heart flutter despite his fury. _Damn rabbit!_ With a 'hmph', he turned away again.

"Th-that's such a load of crap, Usagi-san," he grumbled, "Why would you need an _anime_ to bring your fantasies to life? You've got a living, breathing Misaki right here."

So determined was Misaki to prove his point and put his arrogant boyfriend to shame that he didn't even realise his mistake. Until, that is, Usagi-san suddenly flipped him onto his back again, causing Misaki to yelp.

"Usagi, wha-?"

He faltered, however, when he saw that all-too-familiar twinkle in his rabbit's eyes. As he hovered over Misaki, a feeling of unease began to manifest in the pit of the boy's stomach.

"You're absolutely right." Just like in the studio, the huskiness had returned to Usagi-san's voice. He leaned slowly down towards Misaki until silver bangs were brushing against the younger's face. "Who needs a recording studio when I can easily have you make all kinds of sounds right here?"

Gulping, Misaki tried to wriggle away, but he was trapped between four strong limbs. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. He knew that face. He knew that voice.

"No, no, no, that's not what I-"

Soft lips cut his sentence short, moving slowly and sensually against Misaki's. The boy tensed, trying his best not to let himself be swept away by the spellbinding sensation of Usagi-san's kisses; the warmth of his body; the cool, minty fragrance of his aftershave…

There was a rustling of fabric as the author lifted Misaki's shirt, cool hands wandering up Misaki's taut stomach and over his chest. He shivered, turning his head to the side and gasping for air.

"Usagi-san, y-you pervert! Quit it!"

As expected, his demands were completely disregarded. Instead of answering, Usagi-san lowered his head and trailed his lips along Misaki's jaw and neck. Gasping, the boy tipped his head back. Usagi-san removed one caressing hand to pull off his tie and undo his shirt buttons, revealing a sculpted torso.

Biting back moans, Misaki found himself unable to look away as pale blue fabric slipped from the author's broad shoulders. _Damn him_ , he thought, eyes travelling slowly along the toned body above him, _I can't give in_. He tried to focus on how angry he was, but when cold fingers found one of the sensitive buds on his chest, it became difficult to focus on much of anything.

"Usagi-san…" he tried to complain, but it was no use; Usagi-san was winning and he knew it. Already, Misaki could feel himself hardening in more places than one, and he mentally cursed himself for being so damn susceptible. Lips locked again and Misaki trembled beneath the author, struggling to stay quiet as their tongues intertwined.

When Usagi-san pulled away, his boyfriend was panting heavily. The heat between them intensified as the older man reached for Misaki's tented jeans front.

"U-Usagi, no!" he cried, the strain in his voice painfully audible. There was a glint in Usagi-san's lavender eyes as he surveyed the flushed, quivering form beneath him. He leaned towards Misaki's neck once more.

"Why are you holding back?" he whispered. His breath tickled Misaki's ear. "Let me hear you, Misaki. There's nothing sweeter to me than the sound of your voice."

That said, he gently bit down on the shell of Misaki's ear and nibbled it, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The boy squirmed.

"St-stop saying such embarrassing things…" he began, but his objections dissolved into a loud gasp as both of those icy hands moved southwards. Misaki didn't want to give in, but he could feel what little resistance he had left crumbling under the other's skilled touches. Soon enough, he was reduced to a moaning mess beneath the triumphant author, releasing every wanton whine and groan and gasp without reserve. Their voices melded together in the small, heated bedroom as the two of them cried out in ecstasy, revelling in each other's bodies and calling each other's names over and over in a passionate frenzy.

* * *

Later, the couple lay tangled together on Misaki's narrow bed, floorboards strewn with discarded clothes. The younger nestled his head against Usagi-san's muscular shoulder, sighing in satisfaction. His heart was still racing. Gentle fingers were stroking Misaki's bare chest, and the novelist nuzzled into his dark hair.

"I love you."

"I know," Misaki grudgingly replied. He was annoyed with himself for forgiving his rabbit so easily, but… maybe he was overreacting before. It was just a dumb anime, after all.

"What's going to happen tomorrow?" he asked. Usagi-san (wearing only his trousers) stretched, tucking a free arm behind his silver head.

"Well, we've both recorded all of our lines now, so I'll just go back to the studio and give them the material we just got. I'm sure the director will be quite happy with it."

Wait, _what_?

Misaki sat bolt upright. "What did you say?" he asked, staring down at his half-naked boyfriend.

The corner of Usagi-san's mouth quirked upwards. Dread creeping along his body in a cold sweat, Misaki followed his arm as Usagi-san lazily reached past him and to the nightstand, where his hand landed on a small device that hadn't been there before…

A device with a single, red light that went out when Usagi-san pressed the stop button.

Misaki's lower eyelid flickered. He stared at Usagi-san.

"You didn't."

Grinning, the author held up the little black box in front of his face.

"And that's a wrap."

Misaki exploded.

"USAGI-SAN!" he roared, lunging for the box. The taller man got to his feet, easily keeping it out of Misaki's reach. Misaki leapt up (he didn't even care that he was nude) and made snatch after furious snatch for the device, jumping uselessly up and down as Usagi-san held it above his head and snickered.

"You lousy piece of shit! You _bastard_! GIVE THAT TO ME!"

Needless to say, Misaki's howls of rage were enough to send tremors throughout the entire condominium.

* * *

"Ahh… Akihiko-san, you're so beautiful…"

"Misaki…"

Grimacing, Misaki switched off the television. He covered his face with his hands.

The _Junai Romantica_ anime was a hit. Fangirls all over the world were squealing over it; sales of the original novels had skyrocketed; it was in every manga/anime-oriented magazine in the country. The entire world had had Misaki's desirous voice broadcasted to it. He was so ashamed.

 _How am I ever going to live this down?_ He thought, pulling his knees to his chest. _What if someone recognises my voice? Oh God, what if Nii-chan sees it?!_

This time, he was never, ever in a million years going to forgive Usagi-san.

The sound of the door swinging open had Misaki looking up. His expression soured when he saw the silver-haired novelist, who gave him a smile and wave as he entered the condo. Aikawa-san and Isaka-san followed.

"I'm home."

Misaki stuck his nose up in response. Usagi-san let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Still not talking to me? How childish."

"Shut up!" snarled Misaki, baring his teeth. Shitty Usagi. Damn him to hell.

Red hair swishing, Aikawa-san trotted over to the seating area, sitting on the deep pink couch opposite Misaki. She had a bright smile on her made-up face.

"We've got some exciting news, Misaki-kun!"

Inwardly, Misaki sighed. He didn't want to hear about how popular the _Junai_ anime was, or how many teenaged girls had had spontaneous nosebleeds at the sound of him moaning Usagi-san's name. "Oh yeah?" he said dully.

Isaka-san plopped onto the cushion beside Misaki, draping an arm over the sofa back.

"Guess what, Chibi-tan?" he said, and pointed a finger sideways at the boy. "Now's your chance to become the world's most famous uke!"

"Aren't I _already_ the world's most famous uke?" he said with a scowl. As if he hadn't seen a manga rendition of his face with a lewd expression on every billboard in Tokyo.

"You want to explain, Aikawa-san?"

Confused, Misaki turned to face Aikawa-san, who was beaming at him over the coffee table. Already, he had a bad feeling about this.

"A bigshot director contacted us today, Misaki-kun," she told him. "They want to turn _Junai Romantica_ into a live action movie! But, Usami-sensei has some very specific requirements…"

* * *

 **This was super fun to write XD It's pretty late as I post this, though, so apologies for any missed typos. Many thanks for reading, and please review!**

 **P.S. I know the scene near the end was hardly mega-explicit smut or anything, but it _is_ the first remotely sexual thing I've ever really written. So, if you guys could give me some pointers, that would be great! :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Taking the plunge

**So, Britain's been going through a heat wave, and being used to almost constant rain I haven't been handling it very well... However, it did inspire me to write a lovey-dovey summery oneshot, so here you go. ^^**

* * *

 **3) Taking the plunge**

 **Summary: When a heatwave hits Tokyo, Akihiko whisks his uke away to his private beach house, leading Misaki to make an interesting discovery...**

 _ **The longest oneshot I've written so far (over 7,000 words!). This is, like, 95% schmoopy beachy fluff, but there's a plot if you squint.**_

* * *

The minute August arrived, a heat wave had closed in on Tokyo like a fist, smothering the city with a kind of muggy blanket that even after a week had refused to lift. The air was thick and cloying, heavy with humidity. Tsuyu season was over, so there were no refreshing rain showers to balance out the heat, and no clouds to obstruct the harsh, unforgiving sun as it beat down on a tired novelist through his window.

Akihiko groaned to himself, slumping at his desk. He couldn't take this anymore. The air conditioning in the condo had broken down a few hours ago, and still nobody had arrived to fix it. He'd tried opening the window, but rather than a breeze it had only let in mosquitos and the annoying screech of cicadas far below. His office was sweltering. The author's eighth glass of iced tea was already empty, and he was now puffing on a cigarette as he stared intensely at the blank page on his screen, but it was no good; his brain was being baked inside his head and he couldn't concentrate.

 _This is impossible,_ he finally thought to himself, pushing away from the desk. The current from the small table fan was enough to disturb the trail of smoke in his wake, but that was about it. He huffed.

"Aikawa-san will just have to wait." There was no way he could write under these conditions.

Languidly, Akihiko leaned back in his desk chair (the leather was burning him through his shirt) and turned his head to the window, glaring at the evil yellow ball in the sky. He hated summer. Everything was hot and sticky and damp, and everyone was always outside so the already busy streets became jam packed and you never got any peace. Akihiko didn't like being around people to begin with, but he _especially_ didn't like being around people who were half-naked and covered with sweat.

Well… Except for one particular person.

The corners of his mouth curling upwards, Akihiko stubbed out his cigarette and quickly left his office, his energy seemingly renewed. He could write when the air con was fixed. Until then, he could think of one or two ways to pass the time…

The rest of the condo was just as hot as his office (Akihiko could have sworn he saw the walls wobbling with distortion) but that was forgotten about as soon as the author reached the foot of the stairs. Across the room, sprawled across one of the couches, was his lovely Misaki, looking- in more than one sense of the word- incredibly hot as he lay with his head tipped back and his shirt unbuttoned.

He cracked one eye open as Akihiko approached. In one hand was an open volume of _The Kan_ , with which he was sluggishly fanning himself.

"Your marimo balls are all dead," he mumbled. "I told you not to leave them in direct sunlight."

Akihiko tutted, sitting on the armrest beside him. "It's the sun's fault, not mine. I don't know what it is about this time of year that makes everybody love it so much…"

His irritation dissipated, however, as he swept his eyes over Misaki's reclining form. One arm hung over the edge of the couch and took half his open shirt with it, revealing a lot of smooth, sun-kissed torso. Plump, pink lips were slightly parted. A broad square of sunlight from the open balcony doors fell across the young man, highlighting the glisten of sweat on his bare skin, the rosy flush dusting his cheeks…

Akihiko licked his lips.

"I usually don't mind the sun," Misaki was saying, oblivious to his boyfriend's leering look. "But this is ridiculous. I mean, it's okay in winter when you can just put on a sweater or something, but what are you supposed to do when you're too hot? Shed your skin like a lizard?"

His pulse fluttered delicately beneath the skin of his exposed throat. Unable to restrain himself, Akihiko slid off the armrest and leaned over Misaki's enticing form, causing a pair of green eyes to pop wide open warily.

"You could start by getting rid of these clothes," Akihiko purred, sliding Misaki's shirt away from his shoulders. Immediately, the boy started struggling.

"Knock it off, Usagi-san, I- Hey!" He let out a shriek, squirming as cool fingertips wandered over his stomach. "Don't, your hands are freezing!"

Akihiko's palms slid along his chest. "Exactly. I'm cooling you down."

In reality, the author knew full well that his touches were only increasing Misaki's body heat. This didn't stop Misaki from trying to hide it as usual, though. He batted at Akihiko's hands.

"You're just- ngh- looking for excuses to grope me, you pervert!" he grumbled, though when Akihiko's hand cupped his warm cheek, his struggling lessened a little. He watched the colour on Misaki's cheeks darken, smirking, before slowly moving one hand down towards the boy's shorts. As soon as it reached the button, however, his arm was pushed away.

"Seriously, Usagi, not now," said Misaki. Upon seeing the mild surprise in his seme's expression (however often Misaki feigned reluctance, he always gave in to Akihiko's advances), he gave him an almost apologetic look and said, "I'm just too hot."

Still hovering over him, Akihiko narrowed his eyes but relented, pulling back to sit on the other end of the couch.

"Another reason why I hate this season…" He folded his arms, pouting like a child.

Picking up the manga, Misaki resumed his fanning.

"It wouldn't be so bad if the air con was working. If only we had some other way of keeping cool…"

Akihiko thought for a moment. "Well, we could always turn the shower to 'cold' and-"

"Absolutely not!" said Misaki, sitting bolt upright beside him. The author snickered, and his boyfriend turned his head towards the balcony with a huff, looking out over the rooftops that glowed in the late afternoon sun.

"It's too bad there isn't a beach nearby," he said. "I wouldn't mind the heat if I had a gigantic ocean right on my doorstep."

Akihiko straightened a little, eyeing his boyfriend. "You like the beach?"

"Oh yeah." Misaki nodded, green eyes lighting up. "Nii-chan used to take me there a lot when I was little. I loved it- going swimming, building sandcastles…"

His face took on a dreamy expression. Akihiko regarded it thoughtfully. Personally, he didn't much like the beach- not that his parents had ever taken him there anyway- but Misaki seemed to really miss it…

Misaki had begun rambling about seashells or something, but when he noticed the serious look on Akihiko's face, he stopped instantly.

"Ah, I'm sorry," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm rubbing my normal childhood in your face again."

The author just smiled and shook his head. True, he was a little wistful at Misaki's words, but that was the last thing on his mind. An idea was formulating.

"Don't worry about it," he said, ruffling his uke's hair. Then he cleared his throat. "Say, Misaki, what are you making for dinner tonight?"

"Hiyashi chuka. Why?"

A smirk tugged at Akihiko's lips, and he disguised it with a charming smile. "As it happens, I think I have some wine that would go rather well with that."

* * *

A gentle breeze caressed Misaki's face as he slowly awoke. Birds were tweeting. A warm sunray fell across his closed eyes. He stretched, smiling. That was the best night's sleep he'd gotten in ages…

Come to think of it, Misaki didn't even remember going to sleep that night, but he must have done a really good job of making the bed, because it felt even comfier than usual. The pillows were like clouds beneath his head, the sheets were fresh and smelled pleasantly of detergent, and as he rolled over, he had enough room to spread his limbs out like a starfish and bask in the early morning sunshine…

Wait.

Misaki reached out with his right hand, pawing tentatively at the opposite side of the bed. This wasn't right. Where was Suzuki-san? And Usagi-san? He was _never_ up before Misaki…

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and blinked. Then he blinked again, twice. He was in the middle of a huge, luxurious bed. The room itself was equally huge and stylishly decorated. Across from Misaki was an open window, net curtains floating in the breeze. He stared at it, mouth hanging open. He had never been here before in his life.

"What the…?"

How the hell did he get here?! Pressing his fingers to his temples, Misaki struggled to remember what had brought him to this place. For some reason, he was having trouble recalling anything past dinnertime last night, when he'd been slicing up vegetables and boiling noodles for the hiyashi chuka, and then Usagi-san had poured them each a glass of wine…

And then another glass.

And another, and another.

As he sat there in the middle of the gorgeous room, Misaki felt his teeth clench and his shoulders slowly squaring up, shaking with anger. His hands balled up the bed sheets.

 _He… He did it_ again!

Finally, he slammed his feet onto the floor.

" _USAGI-SAN!"_

Misaki tore out of the room in a flash, not caring that he was still in his pyjamas. As he thundered down the stairs, a familiar and very smug-looking novelist stepped into view, and he skidded to a halt in front of him.

"You…" he panted. "You…"

Usagi-san, as always, looked maddeningly calm under Misaki's furious gaze. He was dressed casually (for once) with shirt sleeves rolled back off his muscular forearms and knee-length canvas shorts. A mug of coffee was loosely clasped in one hand.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Clenching his fists by his sides, Misaki glared up at him and yelled, " _Stop doing this!_ Why do you keep kidnapping me?!"

"It's your fault for getting so drunk."

"Shuddup!" he snapped. When Usagi-san only continued to smirk at him, he threw up his hands in frustration. "And where the hell _are_ we, anyway?"

He sipped at his coffee. "An Usami vacation home. It's a nice one, don't you think?"

Hearing this made Misaki realise that, in his temper, he hadn't even had a chance to take in his surroundings. The house- though as lavish as ever- was significantly more modern than the other Usami villas he'd been taken to against his will, with polished floorboards and walls painted a warm cream colour. There was an archway beside Usagi-san, but Misaki couldn't see the room beyond it.

"W-well…" he said, looking around. "Well, _yeah_ , but why did you bring me here? And why did you have to liquor me up in order to do it?"

"I'm just giving you what you said you wanted." When Misaki looked confused, he arched an eyebrow. "Haven't you looked outside?"

"Huh?" Following Usagi-san's gesturing hand, Misaki walked past him and through the open archway. What he saw made his eyes grow wide.

"Uuuwahhhh!" he exclaimed.

Beyond the archway was a spacious lounge, strewn with comfortable couches, low tables and even a hammock. Beyond that, a wooden veranda, and beyond that, a stretch of golden sand and a sparkling, deep blue ocean.

"We're at the beach!"

Forgetting his anger for the time being, Misaki rushed forwards and out onto the veranda. A sea breeze ran its fingers through his hair as he leant against the railings, gaping at the scenery.

 _It's beautiful_ …

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to stare at his boyfriend.

"The ocean, right on your doorstep, like you said."

"How… How many vacation homes does your family _have_?"

The author shrugged. He moved up behind his uke, resting his arms on the railing either side of him.

"I would have taken you someplace overseas, but I figured you'd just get annoyed with me for wasting money," he said, chin hovering over Misaki's shoulder, "so I brought you here. Do you like it?"

Misaki wanted to give his dumb rabbit another lecture about abducting him, but the kindness and consideration in those lavender eyes was enough to melt away the last of his irritation in a heartbeat. He looked away.

"It… It's amazing," he admitted.

The smile on his seme's face widened. Leaning down, he planted a tender kiss on Misaki's forehead, bringing a blush to his cheeks.

"B-but seriously, Usagi-san," Misaki said, "Next time you want to do something like this, just tell me. Don't kidnap me when I'm out cold like some kind of creep."

There was a smoky chuckle in his ear. "Well, I wanted to surprise you. I packed everything we need, so we can stay here for a few days. Or longer, if you want," he added.

"Don't you have work, Usagi-san?"

He shook his head. "I finished it all last night."

Misaki couldn't help the fluttering of his heart at that. As with everything else he did, Usagi-san had done all this with Misaki in mind…

He looked up at his boyfriend again. It could have been because he so rarely saw it, but he noticed that Usagi-san looked rather… appealing when he was dressed in less formal attire. The first few buttons of his pale blue shirt were open, and Misaki found himself staring at the exposed patch of porcelain skin before the author's eyes found his once more. The sun was reflected in them, giving them an added amethyst lustre. Misaki swallowed.

"Well…" he said softly, "I guess I'll make breakfast, and then we can go out on the beach?"

The novelist's silver head nodded. "Sure."

He stepped back to allow his uke exit, but Misaki stayed put, fidgeting with his head down. Usagi-san tilted his head.

"Misaki?"

"Um…" With trembling hands, Misaki grabbed Usagi-san's shirt front. His cheeks were burning now, but he stood on his tiptoes anyway, and gave the surprised author a lightning quick peck on the cheek.

"Thank you," he mumbled, and dashed into the kitchen.

* * *

Akihiko lay back on his beach towel, one arm tucked underneath his head, eyes peacefully closed behind his sunglasses. The ocean waves _whooshed_ in his ears. Lazily, he lifted his free hand and unbuttoned his linen shirt, allowing the sun to warm him. A contented sigh flowed from his lips.

This really was an ingenious idea on his part. The infernal heat was made much more pleasant by the refreshing sea air, and the relaxation was just what Akihiko needed to kick-start his creativity again. Beside him- along with a novel and the remnants of his and Misaki's picnic- was a notepad and pen with which he'd been exercising his writing muscles. The breathtaking view of the beach from where he sat provided an excellent source of inspiration. Not that that really mattered; at the moment, Akihiko had all the muse he needed in Misaki.

He pushed himself up on his arms to take another peek at his companion. Misaki, who had had more energy than a four-year-old that day, was hopping around at the shoreline, searching for seashells. A grin tugged at Akihiko's mouth as he watched him, excitedly grabbing whatever caught his eye and dropping it into his bucket. He looked just like a little kid…

Not that Akihiko had any room to talk, he supposed as his gaze drifted to the magnificent sandcastle the pair of them had spent several hours constructing. It was as high as the author's waist.

Not wanting to miss an opportunity to make up for his crappy childhood, Akihiko had made his boyfriend spend the day educating him in common beachgoer activities. As well as the art of sandcastle crafting, Misaki had taught his seme all the basics: drawing in the sand, wave jumping, rock pool hunting… He'd even insisted on burying Akihiko in the sand. The author had complied not only for the experience, but because the laughter it elicited from Misaki was infectious.

Akihiko laughed silently to himself as he studied their extravagant sandcastle. Many times that day, Misaki had shaken his head at the "gigantic man-child" and said he was too old for all this baby stuff, but it hadn't bothered the author. He knew Misaki was really enjoying himself.

Lavender eyes found his frolicking companion again. He was glad his beloved liked his present. Misaki may have retained his usual, prickly demeanour, but Akihiko had noticed the shine in those emerald irises that day; the radiant smile that came to his face when they leapt side-by-side over waves; he'd even held the author's hand as they strolled along the sand together. Only when Misaki had suggested they go swimming had Akihiko told him he was tired and wanted to rest. The younger man had hung back to scour the shore while Akihiko retreated to the sand, where he was content to sit and watch him.

"Hey, Usagi-san!"

Misaki was waving to him from the shore, trying to get his attention. He straightened up. "Yes?"

"I'm gonna go swimming in the ocean now," he yelled, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Wanna come with?"

"Can't," was Akihiko's loud reply. "I don't have a swimsuit."

"Really?" Misaki thought for a moment. "Why don't you go buy a new one, then?"

One of Akihiko's long fingers began tracing patterns in the sand.

"It would be a waste of money," he eventually answered. Before Misaki could say any more, he went on. "You go ahead- I'll stay here. Just don't go too far out, okay?"

Even from a distance, Akihiko could see Misaki roll his eyes as he said something about not being a child. But then he waded happily off into the waves, and Akihiko smiled. Honestly, he'd love to join him… Instead, however, he picked up his notepad.

He had to flip through quite a bit before he found a blank space. The writer had already filled pages and pages with prose about his inspiring little uke, but somehow, there was always more. Akihiko began jotting in neat cursive, noting down everything about the boy that entranced him (that he hadn't already written). Misaki's dark hair, tousled by salt water; the alluring shade of caramel the sun had tinted his skin; his lithe little body, taught calves and narrow shoulders and slim midsection glistening with water droplets as he splashed around in the spray, glowing with that carefree innocence he possessed…

Akihiko's hand scrabbled to get the words down as they flowed from his mind and out of his pen. He glanced up at Misaki every now and then, smiling a little more each time.

Already, he knew the one notepad wouldn't last him the weekend.

* * *

How long had it been since Misaki last went swimming? He felt like a fish as he propelled himself through the waves; clumsy on land, but graceful in the water. Despite everything he said to Usagi-san earlier, Misaki couldn't stop himself from laughing and wallowing like a child, delighting in the salty spray.

He kind of wished his boyfriend would come and join him; it would be even more fun with him there (not that Misaki would ever admit that). It was a shame he wouldn't buy another swimsuit, especially since he usually had no qualms about throwing his money around. Misaki pictured splashing Usagi-san and ducking him when his guard was down, and sniggered.

When Misaki flipped over to float on his back, he found himself staring up at dozens of white, fluffy clouds drifting across a perfect blue backdrop. It was a wonderfully soothing sight. Along with the lapping of the water at his sides and the gentle motion of the waves lifting him up and down, Misaki almost felt as though he could fall asleep there in the middle of the ocean and let the current carry him off.

"Misaki?"

The call was just barely audible over the rushing ocean. Realising Usagi-san had probably lost sight of him, Misaki turned himself upright and offered his seme a reassuring wave. Usagi-san raised a hand in return and sat down again.

 _I bet he was thinking I'd drowned or something_ , thought Misaki as he lay on his back again. _He's just like Nii-chan_ …

When Misaki was small, Takahiro would love taking him to the beach but was terrified of letting him anywhere near the ocean. He used to insist on holding his precious little brother's hand whenever he went in the water, until Misaki was finally able to convince him to let him swim on his own. Even then, Takahiro would hover anxiously by the shore, keeping watch.

 _At least Usagi-san's not as protective as him… He is a big baby, though_ , he thought, recalling his boyfriend's face when he taught him to build a sandcastle. His expression had been one of such intense concentration that it was humorous.

The mere memory of it caused Misaki to laugh out loud to himself (thankfully they were on a private Usami beach, so there was no-one around to hear him). He couldn't deny how much fun he'd had today. It felt a little childish and silly to be doing all the stuff he did when he was ten, but Misaki also enjoyed it because he felt like he was reliving those happy days with Takahiro.

Although... Being here with Usagi-san instead was definitely different. But not in a bad way.

He stayed there in the ocean for a while, enjoying the cold of the water on his back in contrast to the hot sun on his front, until the sky started to turn orangey and the air cooled, raising goose pimples on Misaki's arms. He swam back to shore and ran up the beach; the sand was soft and warm underfoot. When he reached his boyfriend's beach towel, Usagi-san was sticking the shells he'd collected onto their sandcastle.

"Let's take a selfie with it before the tide comes in," Misaki suggested. Usagi-san raised a brow but complied, posing by their creation as Misaki took out his phone and threw up a peace sign.

"Have you had a nice day?" he asked when Misaki was done.

Towelling himself off, Misaki looked up and nodded vigorously. "I can't believe you've never brought me here before! It really is gorgeous here, huh?"

"You haven't seen the best of it yet."

Misaki gave him a questioning look, at which Usagi-san only smiled. Standing up, he brushed the sand from his shorts and offered Misaki one of his hands. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

The younger man was confused, but he took Usagi-san's hand and allowed him to lead the way along the beach. Their toes sunk into the sand, and their shadows stretched and grew the lower the sun came.

Usagi-san led them past the rock pools, further than Misaki had been before. Eventually, they reached a point where the sand curved around, narrowed and then stopped completely, cut off by one of several tall, grassy cliffs that jutted out into the ocean.

"Up here," Usagi-san said, ushering Misaki towards a sandy pathway that snaked its way through the grass and uphill towards the clifftop. Intrigued, Misaki followed him upwards. It was difficult; the sand was so soft that he struggled to find his footing, but Usagi-san's strong arm was always there when he stumbled.

"How…" he panted, "How much higher, Usagi-san?"

"Not far now." Seemingly familiar with this journey, Usagi-san climbed the last few strides with ease and pulled Misaki with him. It was flatter at the summit, with grass that reached their knees. Once Misaki had caught his breath, his seme swept out a hand in front of them and said, "What do you think?"

Following Usagi-san's arm, Misaki's jaw dropped. The gasp he let out was carried away by the wind.

"Wow…"

From where they stood atop the cliff, the beach looked even more incredible, stretching out for miles into the distance. What made it ten times more amazing, however, was the sunset. Misaki had failed to notice as they were climbing, but the sun had become an enormous, fiery sphere on the horizon, slowly sliding out of view behind the ocean. Oranges, reds, yellows, pinks and purples all bled into one another in the sky and bounced off the surface of the waves, creating a shimmering sea of colour.

Awed, Misaki walked forwards towards the edge of the cliff. He didn't even notice as the grass whipped his bare legs. When he reached the precipice, he simply stood there, gazing out over the landscape in a daze.

A cool hand rested on his shoulder, and Misaki blinked, tilting his head upwards. Beside him, Usagi-san wore a peaceful smile as he, too, stared at the sunset.

"I've been here a few times before," he said quietly. Orangey light danced in his lilac irises. "But it looks even more beautiful with you standing next to me."

Misaki's cheeks immediately heated at that. _The romantic sap..._ He averted his gaze, returning his attention to the view once again. The waves were crashing below them, swooping towards the sky and peaking in foamy, white tips before falling flat again. It was mesmerising to look at; so much so, in fact, that Misaki wasn't even aware that he was slowly leaning into Usagi-san's side. His seme said nothing, though, and only tightened his hold around the smaller man.

"You're right…" Misaki murmured. "It _is_ beautiful."

* * *

They stood there for a long time, the sun seeming to have put them under some sort of spell. The only sound was that of the waves and the crickets chirping in the grass. After a while- neither of them could say how long- the last few sunrays finally melted away behind the ocean, leaving nothing but an inky blue sky crammed with stars and a crescent moon, casting a streak of light across the water that ran far away into the distance like a long, silvery road.

The air had cooled a few degrees by then, and a breeze brushed past them. Misaki's head nestled against Akihiko's shoulder, and he bent to kiss his boyfriend's dark, damp locks.

"I feel like I could stay here all night," he confessed.

"Yeah…" Thoughtfully, Misaki's gaze travelled down the jagged face of the cliff and to its base, where waves were lapping gently at the rocks. All of a sudden, his eyes lit up and he grabbed Akihiko's arm.

"Wait, Usagi-san, I know!"

The novelist cocked his head. "What?"

A row of white teeth shone in the dark as Misaki grinned. "Let's go cliff jumping!"

Akihiko's mouth went dry.

"What?" he repeated, croaking slightly. Clearing his throat, he continued in a more even tone. "Misaki, that's not a good idea. It's dangerous. Plus, the water's cold."

"I don't care," said Misaki. "Anyway, the sea's calmer now. Come on, it'll be fun!"

The author's heart was already sinking into his stomach. He hated to deny his beloved anything, but found his silver head shaking of its own accord. "No."

"What's the matter?" Even in the dark, Akihiko saw the sly smirk that came to Misaki's face. "Are you scared, bunny?"

" _No,_ " Akihiko said. "I just don't want to crack my head open on the rocks. It's called common sense," he added, giving Misaki a stern look.

His only response was an eye-roll.

"Honestly, you're worse than Nii-chan sometimes…" Misaki shrugged. "Well, whatever. I'm diving."

He backed up a few paces, and was about to throw himself over the ledge when Akihiko grabbed his arm. His eyes were wide.

"Misaki, don't. I'm serious."

"What's the big deal?" Annoyed, Misaki frowned up at him, placing his free hand on his hip. "I'll be fine. I'm not a child, Usagi-san."

"I know that…"

"Then, why can't you lighten up?" he asked. "It's just cliff jumping."

Akihiko didn't let go of Misaki's arm. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself, okay?"

"I'm not _going_ to hurt myself-"

"But if you _do_ , I won't be able to save you!"

So anxious was he to keep Misaki from hurtling towards the rocks that Akihiko only realised his slip when the younger man gave him a funny look.

"Sure you will," he said. "You can just dive in after me, like the knight in shining armour you fancy yourself as."

Akihiko looked away.

"I can't do that…" His hand slipped away and hung by his side.

"Why not?" Misaki creased brow cleared. "Are you afraid of the ocean? Is that it?"

"No," said Akihiko, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Why, then?"

This time, the novelist couldn't bring himself to answer; it was too embarrassing. Misaki continued to stare at him, puzzled, until disbelief suddenly dawned on his face. He tilted his head to the side.

"Usagi-san…" he said slowly, "You can _swim_ , can't you?"

His silence confirmed what Misaki was clearly thinking. His mouth fell open.

"Oh my God, you can't swim."

Akihiko was glad it was dark; his cheeks were feeling uncharacteristically warm. He looked at his feet, ashamed, but his head snapped up again when he heard a splutter from the other man. Misaki was standing with his hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Akihiko scowled. "It's not funny," he said through gritted teeth. His chagrined tone of voice only made Misaki laugh harder.

"S-seriously?" he said between giggles. " _That's_ your big weakness I've been trying to figure out all these years? You don't know how to _swim_?"

"Well, my parents never took me swimming as a child," he grumbled. "How was I supposed to learn?"

Unable to control himself, Misaki burst into full on laughter, clutching at his stomach.

"Ha ha haaa! The Great Lord Usami-sensei can't swim!" he chortled. Akihiko watched as his boyfriend milked this rare opportunity to tease him, unamused. "Do we need to get you a floaty, Usagi-san? Or a pair of water-wings? I bet they'd look _great_ on you!"

"It's not that funny, Misaki…" Akihiko had been frowning as Misaki fell about with exaggerated laughter, but when the boy came precariously close to the edge of cliff, his heart gave a lurch. "Misaki, be careful!"

"Ahahaha- W-waugh!" Misaki's expression shifted rapidly from one of humour to one of terror as he slipped and stumbled backwards, teetering on the ledge and flapping his arms frantically. Akihiko made a snatch for him, but it was too late; Misaki lost his footing and fell backwards, leaving a startled cry in his wake as he disappeared over the cliff's edge.

" _MISAKI!"_ Akihiko roared. His heart was racing and his chest tight. Before he knew what he was doing, the author had ripped off his own shirt, sprinted towards the ledge and leapt after his beloved, plummeting towards the deep blue waves below.

* * *

Misaki screamed as he fell. His breath was snatched away from him, his stomach doing flips. Halfway down, however, his cry of shock was replaced by one of giddy glee, even as he plunged headfirst into the salty water with a splash. The cold was exhilarating. When he broke the surface, he was laughing.

Suddenly, there was another loud splash beside him, and he turned in surprise. _Did Usagi-san jump too? He just said he can't swim..._ Rotating on the spot, Misaki searched for his boyfriend but saw only ripples. He tried to peer beneath the water, but it was too dark.

"Usagi-san?"

A few bubbles rose to the surface.

"Shit…" Quickly, Misaki took a deep breath and ducked beneath the waves, shutting his eyes tightly against the stinging salt. He searched blindly, flailing his arms in the water. The second his hands made contact with cold skin, Misaki lunged forwards, grabbing Usagi-san under the armpits and hauling him to the surface. They came up together, gasping for air.

When Misaki opened his eyes again, Usagi-san was coughing and spluttering. His silver bangs hung wetly over his eyes, dripping.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Usagi-san was silent for a minute, catching his breath, but as soon as he'd done so he grabbed Misaki's shoulders.

"Misaki, you idiot!" he rasped. His skin was paler than usual, glistening wet in the moonlight, and his eyes were wild. "You could have been killed!"

Treading water, Misaki just snorted. His dark hair was plastered to his face. "I'm _fine_ , Usagi-san. You're the one that jumped in when you don't know how to swim," he pointed out.

"I was trying to protect you!"

Only then did Misaki notice the edge to Usagi-san's voice; it was unlike anything he'd heard from the man before. Could it have been… panic? He felt himself being pushed down, the waves licking at his chin as the older man tried to use him to stay afloat.

"Usagi-san…?" Misaki studied his face- drawn, tense- and frowned. "Let's get back to shore."

Was it Misaki's imagination, or was Usagi-san trembling? "I can't."

"Sure you can."

"I can't, Misaki," he almost snapped. He was inching closer, fingernails digging into Misaki's skin. "I told you, I can't swim. I'll drown."

Misaki laughed. "Silly Usagi, you're not going to…"

He trailed off. Usagi-san's shoulders and chest were heaving rapidly, and his muscles were visibly stiff. His lilac eyes were round, and they held something Misaki had only very, _very_ rarely seen in them before: fear. Raw, childlike fear.

"Hey…" he said softly. Reaching out, his hands found Usagi-san's waist beneath the water and tightened, pulling him closer. "I've got you, okay?"

Usagi-san's arms moved around his neck. His breath came in short gasps next to Misaki's ear. He pulled back, looking his seme in the eyes.

"You _are_ scared, aren't you?"

Usagi-san didn't say anything; he just clung to Misaki. A strange, soft sensation welled up in the younger man's chest. Forgetting to be embarrassed for a moment, he leaned forwards, resting his damp forehead against Usagi-san's.

"You're this scared, and you jumped in after me anyway." It wasn't a question but a statement.

From the author's pale lips came the tiniest huff of a laugh. "Of course I did." His tone was tremulous, but still managed to retain that affectionate ring reserved for Misaki. "Nothing scares me more than the thought of losing you."

Though he knew it was hardly the time or place, Misaki couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. For a moment or two, he and Usagi-san simply held one another, bobbing slowly up and down on the waves. But the water was growing cold, and Misaki found himself shivering too. He tugged at Usagi-san carefully.

"Come on."

One arm moved away from Usagi-san's waist, and his breath hitched. "Misaki, wait…"

"It's easy," Misaki assured. He turned them towards the shadowy beach. "Just hang on to me."

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, the pair of them crawled, dripping, onto the seashore. They rested there for a moment before climbing to their feet. A trail of small footprints alongside slightly larger ones followed them to Usagi-san's towel, where he had left- luckily- a change of clothes for each of them. They dried off and changed as quickly as they could, and then collapsed onto the soft sand, lying side-by-side on their backs and panting. The ground was still warm from baking in the sun all day, and they allowed it to still their shivers, looking up at the clear night sky.

Akihiko's heart was still pounding a little. It wasn't often that he was truly afraid, but when he'd found himself suddenly submerged in that cold, deep water- unknowing of the horrors that lurked beneath- he hadn't been able to help himself. Even now, he still felt shaken, to his very great annoyance; he wished he hadn't shown such weakness in front of Misaki.

His boyfriend didn't seem to mind, though; in fact, he'd looked rather touched when Akihiko jumped in. Whilst the novelist would do it again in a heartbeat, he really hoped he wouldn't have to.

But he needn't think about that right now. It was over now, and he was lying on the beach next to the one he loved, listening to the lap of the waves and breathing in the fresh, sea air, without a soul in sight to disturb them. They were the only two people in the world.

"The stars look amazing here, don't they?" came Misaki's voice. The night sky was indeed a spectacle, wide and clear and sparkling with starlight, but Akihiko was feeling too humiliated to fully appreciate it. At his lack of response, Misaki looked over, and the author was met with amazing, emerald eyes.

"Are you okay, Usagi-san?"

After a moment's hesitation, he sighed. He might as well be honest. "I just… don't like that you saw me like that."

Misaki shrugged. "There's no need to be embarrassed. Everyone's scared of something."

"I know, but I'm not supposed to get scared in front of _you_ ," he said. His fingers scraped through the sand, gathering grains beneath his nails. "I'm supposed to protect you, but the way I acted just now was… cowardly."

For a while, Misaki didn't respond, and Akihiko supposed that he agreed with him but didn't want to say so. But then- to his surprise- a small, warm hand crept into his own large, cool one. He turned his head to the side. Misaki wasn't looking at him; his gaze was fixed on the sky, and Akihiko couldn't be sure in the dark, but it looked like he was blushing.

"I don't think it was cowardly. I think it was really brave."

Hearing that, Akihiko felt his heart swell in his chest. He couldn't believe this boy… Akihiko showed him his most pathetic side, and Misaki not only accepted it but _praised_ it, like he was a hero. His fingers tightened around his lover's. That unfailing ability to make Akihiko shine with happiness, however stupid or angry or sad he was feeling… _That_ was what made him love Misaki so immensely, indescribably much. Especially at that moment.

Misaki himself let out a cough.

"Anyway. We should get back to the house- warm up properly."

Unable to reign in his adoration, Akihiko rolled over so that, in an instant, he was on top of Misaki, trapping him between both arms.

"I have a better idea," he said, in a low, silky voice.

Misaki's eyes widened apprehensively. Akihiko saw his throat bob. "Usagi-san?"

Lavender eyes twinkled along with the stars behind them. As if Misaki needed to ask. The romantic backdrop of the quiet beach at night, the touching moment they had just shared... It was like something straight out of one of Akihiko's BL novels. How could he resist?

Without saying another word, the author leaned down and kissed Misaki's mouth, melting into lush, pink lips.

"Mmph!" Misaki broke away, turning his face sideways. "You taste of seawater."

"So do you," said Akihiko, and kissed him again.

This time, Misaki only managed a few half-hearted protests before he finally moaned beneath him and pushed back, parting his lips to allow Akihiko's tongue entry. It danced with Misaki's as their passion grew, the younger man winding his arms around Akihiko's strong neck. The author's own hands didn't take long to start wandering. They traced over Misaki's collarbones, the tender buds on his chest, his slim sides, the hollows of his hips… Only when they reached the waistband of his shorts did Misaki pull back.

"Usagi-san, wait! What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asked, sliding the fabric off Misaki's hips and leaving him in just his underwear. Misaki squirmed against the sand.

"We can't, not here…"

"Nobody's looking," Akihiko said. He smoothed Misaki's still-damp hair off his face, brushing his lips against his forehead, his cheeks.

"Besides," he half-whispered, "I want to show you how thankful I am."

Misaki was already breathing heavily. His eyes were half-lidded, hair shining and cheeks glowing red. Oh, he looked magnificent in the moonlight…

"Thankful for what?" he mumbled, but when Akihiko silenced him with another, fervent kiss, he didn't resist. Their tongues sought each other out eagerly once again, and fumbling fingers found their way to Akihiko's shirt buttons whilst Misaki's other hand slipped into silver locks. The kisses became quietly frantic.

Within minutes, Akihiko was tugging at the thin fabric of Misaki's boxers. He drew back and looked into Misaki's eyes as he did so, asking permission (a rare display for him). And though Misaki avoided his gaze- a furious shade of scarlet covering his face- he did absolutely nothing to stop him. Smiling, Akihiko moved in.

As far as summer nights went, that night was a relatively cool one, but both Akihiko and Misaki felt a fire burning within him as they conveyed their love to each other beneath the silver moon. They held each other tightly, undulating like the sea before them, gasping for breath, and soon the crashing of the waves was mingling with their blissful cries.

Akihiko's hands explored every inch of Misaki's figure. His skin was burning as he writhed under cold night air and even colder fingertips, slick with sweat. Every touch, shift and sound from him only enflamed Akihiko more. He buried his face in the crook of Misaki's neck as the boy tipped his head back, pressing their bodies closer and relishing his warmth. Contrary to the summer sun, this was one kind of heat he didn't mind at all.

* * *

"You need more."

"Usagi-san, I'm wearing two coats already."

"Your skin's very sensitive, it's not enough. Here, I'll do it for you."

Misaki sighed loudly as the author squirted yet more sunscreen into his palm, rubbing it into his uke's arms and shoulders. _You're just looking for an excuse to feel me up…_ "I can do it myself, you know."

"That's irrelevant," Usagi-san replied smoothly, "because I want to do it."

The younger man raised his eyes to the ceiling, but stayed still as Usagi-san applied the cream to his back. He tried not to lean back into those cool hands as they massaged his back muscles; he was still slightly sore from last night.

Flushing at the memories, Misaki looked at his lap. As always, the tingles of pleasure his recollections aroused within him were not enough to drown out his shame.

He pressed his lips together. It didn't matter that he was embarrassed, he told himself; this time, for once, he knew _exactly_ how to deflect his humiliation back at Usagi-san instead.

When Usagi-san was finished Misaki stood, turning around to face his boyfriend. Usagi-san smirked up at him from where he knelt on the floor, obviously pleased to have gotten his way. Fighting down a bubble of laughter, Misaki clasped his hands behind his back and began sweetly:

"Before we go to the beach, Usagi-san, I have something for you."

"Oh?" He stood up as well. "What's that?"

Grinning, Misaki reached behind the sofa, pulling the large plastic bag from its hiding place.

"I got it in the village this morning," he told him (there was one about a five minutes' walk away) and held it out in both hands. "Here."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Usagi-san reached out and took the bag. As soon as he pulled out the present, Misaki burst into a fit of giggles.

Usagi-san regarded the rubber ring with a raised eyebrow. It was pink and decorated with teddy bears. He swivelled his head towards Misaki.

"Really?"

"Don't you like it?" Misaki teased, snickering. "It's to help you with your swimming lesson today."

Before they'd gone to bed the previous night, Misaki had told Usagi-san that he lacked enough basic life skills as it was without being unable to swim, and he was going to help him learn whether he liked it or not. As when Misaki had said this, the silver rabbit looked surprisingly agreeable as he studied the floaty in his hands for a long while. He turned to Misaki, and bowed.

"Thank you, Misaki-sensei. I'm sure it will prove invaluable when you are instructing me."

Misaki groaned.

"You're not supposed to _like_ it," he said. Trust Usagi-san to spoil his revenge. "Man, you take the fun out of everything…"

Usagi-san only grinned down at his uke. "You say that, but you wouldn't be having half as much fun if I weren't here with you."

After a moment's consideration, Misaki returned the smile.

"You're right," he said. "I'm going to have a ton of fun watching you try and doggy-paddle through the shallows."

The author's eyebrows lowered and he scowled, and Misaki laughed.

"I'm kidding- I'll be nice to you, I promise," he said, and offered Usagi-san his upturned palm. "I'll even let you hold my hand if you're scared."

A second or two passed before the corners of Usagi-san's mouth lifted.

"Fine." He took Misaki's outstretched hand. "I'll trust you."

Misaki squeezed his rabbit's paw. They smiled at each other, and together they walked out into the sun and towards the ocean.

* * *

 **Not my best work, but I hope you guys still enjoyed. Please leave me a review if you have time.**

 **Happy summer! :)**


	4. Chapter 4: The Black Hole

**4) The Black Hole**

 **Summary: Akihiko and his boyfriend undergo a harrowing experience, which Misaki then inadvertently unleashes unto the rest of the world. (Some OOC-ness)**

 _ **So... I don't really know what possessed me to write this story. It just sort of happened. I thought I'd add it to my collection anyway, because what the heck, but even so, I would like to apologise in advance for... well, you'll find out soon enough.**_

* * *

It was just coming up to six O'clock when Akihiko arrived home, a spring in his step as he made his way up to the penthouse. His newest novel was completed and selling like hotcakes, as usual, and now all that was left for him to do was enjoy a homemade dinner and a nice helping of Misaki for dessert.

When he opened the door and entered, however, he found the condo to be quite dark and empty. Frowning, Akihiko stepped out of his shoes and the entryway. A brief search of the first floor yielded no dinner, Misaki or even a note.

 _That's odd_ , he thought to himself. He hoped Misaki had simply been too tired to cook and not abducted by Haruhiko or that annoying mangaka again.

"Misaki?" he called out, standing at the foot of the stairs. "Are you home?"

No answer. Perplexed and a little disappointed, Akihiko made his way upstairs and down the hall to the closed door of Misaki's bedroom. A faint glow shone through the crack above the carpet, which only added to his confusion. He knocked twice.

"Misaki?"

Nothing. Akihiko waited only a moment before cautiously pushing the door open, peering through the gloom within. Misaki's room was as dark as the rest of the house, with the curtains drawn and the open laptop on the desk being the only light source. And in the furthest corner, lying on top of the bed…

"Misaki…?"

Warily, Akihiko approached him. Misaki was curled up in a ball on his side, shivering and hugging a pair of knees to his chest. His face was hidden as if in fear of some unseen horror, and Akihiko's mouth went dry. Something wasn't right here.

He knelt beside the bed, a concerned frown pinching his face.

"Misaki, are you okay?"

He reached out and touched his shoulder. At the contact, Misaki only shrank in on himself even further.

"U-U-Usagi-san…" he whimpered, "It was h… h… horrible…"

Worry quickly set in as Akihiko surveyed his trembling uke. Something had obviously happened to Misaki while he was out- something truly traumatising, by the sounds of it- but what? Akihiko was dying to find out, but in order to get it out of Misaki he'd have to calm him down first.

"There, there," he said kindly, stroking Misaki's dishevelled hair. "I'm here, Misaki. Everything's fine."

"N-no it's not!" said Misaki, frantically shaking his head. He peeked out from behind his arms, and Akihiko was shocked by the wildness in his usually placid green eyes.

"I have seen things today," he said, speaking in an odd, raspy voice that frightened Akihiko just a little, "that I will never be able to unsee."

"Um…"

"I have been _defiled_ , Usagi-san!" he cried, unfurling suddenly. Eerie light from the computer screen outlined his face as he leaned closer to the bewildered novelist. He started to gabble. "They treated me like a… like a… like a piece of meat! Like a puppet for their own sick fantasies!"

"What are you talking about?" Suddenly, Akihiko's eyes widened and he grabbed Misaki's shoulders. "Did somebody hurt you, is that what you're saying?"

Akihiko hoped for the sake of the rest of the world that he'd misunderstood. He wasn't sure he could control his rage if _anyone_ had laid a finger on his Misaki.

The shaken boy scooted backwards into the corner and hunched over there. He refused to look at Akihiko, staring into space instead.

"Worse than that…" He started rocking on his haunches, muttering. "They made me do things… Terrible, awful, _disgusting_ things…"

Haunted, green eyes met Akihiko's again and filled with tears. "I don't think I'll ever be the same again, Usagi-san."

The author's brow was creased with confusion and despair. He was truly terrified for his beloved now; what on earth had happened to reduce him to such a state?

"Misaki, I don't understand," he said. "What did they do to you? Who are 'they'?"

In response, Misaki reached out and pointed a quivering finger at the glowing laptop on his desk.

"S-see for yourself…"

After a moment's hesitation, Akihiko rose from the floor and headed over to the desk. He was utterly baffled; after all, what could the computer tell him that Misaki couldn't? Stooping, he peered at the screen and found himself looking at a website he didn't recognise.

 _This is what's freaked him out so much?_ But it was just a website…

Only when Akihiko caught sight of the title at the top of the page did everything suddenly make sense.

 _ **Junai Romantica**_ **fanfiction archive.**

Dropping his shoulders, Akihiko heaved a sigh- half out of relief, half out of incredulous exasperation towards his boyfriend. He looked over his shoulder at Misaki, raising an eyebrow.

"So, when you say you were 'defiled', you just mean some BL fans used your name in their erotic fanfiction?"

Horror was still etched into Misaki's face, though it now seemed more humorous than tragic. "Are you telling me that's not defilement?!"

Akihiko burst into hearty laughter. So, his uptight, prudish little uke had simply happened upon some kinky _Junai Romantica_ stories and overreacted. And there was Akihiko thinking Misaki had been kidnapped or gang raped or something…

In the corner of the bed, Misaki was still rocking back and forth, clutching the sides of his dark, shaggy head.

"Wh-why would anybody _write_ something like that?" he was mumbling. "It's just… _wrong_."

"What, this one here?"

A quick glance at the summary told Akihiko everything he needed to know. He read the name of the story aloud, causing a shudder to rack Misaki's form.

"I had to take a shower after reading it," he said hollowly. "It wasn't enough… Nothing will ever be enough," he concluded, grimacing to himself.

Shaking his head, Akihiko strolled over and ruffled Misaki's hair. "You're so dramatic, Misaki."

He bristled at that.

"I'm not being dramatic!" he snapped. "Do you have _any idea_ the kinds of things your freakish fangirls did to me?!"

Furiously, he pointed an accusing finger at his laptop. "I only read, like, four of those abominations, and now I'm gonna need therapy for a decade!"

To Misaki's immense annoyance, Akihiko just sniggered at him.

"They're just dirty stories written by socially awkward teenaged girls. It's nothing to lose your head over."

For a moment or two, Misaki just stared at him. Then, he let out a humourless laugh. "You have _no idea_ , Usagi-san!

"The stuff those people wrote about… the things they made me do…" he said, and rubbed his arms as if they were covered in spiders. "I feel so _violated_."

"But, nothing in those stories happened to _you_ ," Akihiko pointed out. The bedsprings squeaked as he took a seat beside him. "Just a fictional version of you. Based off another fictional version of you."

"Not important!" Misaki barked. He leapt forwards onto his knees, glaring. "Those creeps have completely sullied my good name with their, their 'fanfiction'!" He retched. "As if it wasn't bad enough having _you_ use me as the subject of your depraved delusions without half a million perverted teenagers doing it as well!"

Akihiko was tempted to ask Misaki why he was even looking at _Junai Romantica_ fanfiction in the first place if he found it so appalling, but refrained, opting instead to give the boy a condescending pat on the shoulder.

"Come now, Misaki. You should feel proud to have provided such inspiration for so many people."

Misaki crossed his arms and 'hmph'ed, scowling at Akihiko.

"This is all your fault, you stupid rabbit! None of this would have happened if you hadn't written those disgusting books about me…" He gasped suddenly, leaning forwards and urgently gripping Akihiko's arm. "That's it! Usagi-san, claim copyright and have all those stories taken down!"

Akihiko gave him a look. "That would be a bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Besides, I'd lose half my fanbase."

He was sure Akikawa-sensei's readers wouldn't take kindly to having their online outlet for fujoshi urges completely obliterated. Misaki's fingers dug into his arm, and he could see the desperation written on his face.

"But you can't just sit back and do nothing!" he insisted, gesturing once more to his computer where the website was still open. "That stuff doesn't belong on the internet! Heck, it's too sick and twisted even for the filthiest corner of _hell_! You can't let it stay there online where any poor soul could stumble across it!"

"Oh, come on," said Akihiko. "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, yeah?" Misaki's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever actually _read_ any fanfiction?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. Why would I read an unoriginal knockoff of my own work written by some amateur?"

To Akihiko's puzzlement, Misaki shook his head sadly at him upon hearing this. He shuffled forwards so they were sitting side-by-side on the edge of his narrow bed.

"You don't get it."

The author's brow puckered, and Misaki let out a long, shuddering breath before attempting to explain.

"Usagi-san… those internet stories are _not_ like your BL novels- they're worse." He was sitting like a patient in a psychiatrist's office- elbows resting on splayed thighs, head bowed and face hidden from view- as if he were relaying some traumatic experience to Akihiko. In a low, disturbed sort of voice, he affirmed, "They're _so_ much worse…"

Looking down at him, Akihiko just sighed; his boyfriend was such a little drama queen. Granted, he didn't know much about this fanfiction business- only what Aikawa-san had told him- but he was sure Misaki was making a big fuss over nothing.

"They can't be any worse than the source material," he said, and nudged Misaki's side. "There's even a volume of _Junai_ where I fuck you in a Ferris wheel car, remember?"

He was surprised when Misaki answered him with a scornful 'pshhh!'

"That?!" he said. When he lifted his face to look at Akihiko, it was deadly serious. "That's _nothing_.

"My eyes have been opened today, Usagi-san," he declared, pointing to one of them for emphasis (its lower lid was flickering slightly) and then to his laptop. "Whatever you find on that, that _black hole_ of a website, I promise you it's far, far freakier than Ferris wheel fucking."

Silver brows raised at this change of tune; Misaki had almost vomited after reading that particular _Junai Romantica_ novel. "Really?"

Misaki nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. I'm telling you, Usagi-san, those fangirls of yours have so little self-restraint they make _you_ look like Mother freaking Teresa!"

He stilled, red-faced and panting a little after his outburst. Akihiko stared at him for all of five seconds before jumping up off the mattress.

"Well, colour me intrigued."

He made for Misaki's desk. Until now, the esteemed author had always considered 'fanfiction' to be beneath him, but after seeing the effects it had on his uke, perhaps it was time he gave it a try… He'd only made it a few paces, however, when there was a cry of "Usagi-san, _no_!" and a pair of arms grabbed him tightly around the waist.

Frowning, Akihiko looked down. Misaki was gripping him like a lifeline, staring up with eyes that were all but popping out of his head.

"Don't go near that website, Usagi-san," he pleaded. "It may be too late for me, but you can still be spared!"

Akihiko rolled his eyes.

"You can't pique my curiosity like that and then keep me in the dark," he said. "Just let me read one or two."

But Misaki whipped his dark head from side to side, tightening his hold.

"For the love of God, Usagi, don't do it!" Even as Akihiko started walking again, he clung on. His feet dragged across the floor as he continued, "There are things on that site that aren't meant for human or leporine eyes!"

The imploring look on his face matched his tone of voice. Smiling at his histrionic housemate, Akihiko pried Misaki's arms from his waist and settled himself in the boy's desk chair.

"You're being silly," he said, and threw him a smirk. "Besides, you're always saying what a huge pervert I am, Misaki- I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."

Standing in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched, Misaki opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish in protest. Eventually, however, he closed it, pressing his lips together in grim resolve. He dropped his arms.

"Fine then. Do it." Turning on his heel, he marched towards the bedroom door, frowning at Akihiko over his shoulder before he left. "But don't say I didn't warn you!"

Akihiko called after him as he shut the door, hearing his footsteps on the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"To get so pissed that I'll forget everything I read today…" was Misaki's fast fading response.

 _Oh, Misaki…_ Chuckling to himself, Akihiko swivelled back around in the chair and turned his attention to the waiting webpage.

Before he'd even begun reading, some of his fans' ridiculous usernames had him sneering. If these amateurs couldn't even come up with a decent pseudonym, he doubted anything they'd written would be particularly scintillating, let alone too horrifying for him to handle. Misaki had to be exaggerating; true, he seemed to recall his editor saying this website was rather notorious for… a number of things, but for him, the original author, it should be a cakewalk, shouldn't it? Surely, there was nothing in this frivolous fiction that could faze him. The fantasies of his readers may have been too much for Misaki's innocent mind, but Akihiko was made of much sterner stuff than him.

Scrolling through until he found a summary that looked passable, Akihiko clicked onto the story and started to read. He wasn't apprehensive in the slightest. After all, it was just fanfiction; how bad could it be?

* * *

An enormous pile of empty beer cans had accumulated on the coffee table. Chugging what was probably his sixth or seventh, Misaki tossed it onto the metal mound with a _clank_ and slid down in his seat, hiccupping. He felt queasy, his head spinning and his vision blurring at the edges- and yet, he still for the life of him couldn't get rid of those vile images. Usagi-san's fangirls had seared them into his brain.

He slumped further down into the couch cushions. He wished he'd never discovered that website… A few hours ago, Misaki wasn't even aware that 'fanfiction' was a thing that existed. He'd thought the stuff inside Usagi-san's books and bedroom were as dirty as it got. Ah, if only he could return to that state of blissful ignorance…

And now Usagi-san, too, had been sucked into that black hole they called fanfiction dot net. Sluggishly, Misaki turned his head towards the upstairs landing where his room was. Who knew what nightmares Usagi-san was being subjected to behind that door? He'd looked so sure of himself as he sat down in front of that computer, completely oblivious to the horror that awaited him… Misaki reached sorrowfully for another drink. How he feared for his unwitting boyfriend.

His face was hot with a drunken flush, but he couldn't stop yet; his only hope of respite now was a complete and total memory wipe. He was just prying open the beer can (or at least trying to- the alcohol was causing his fingers to fumble) when above him, his bedroom door suddenly banged open.

He looked up again. In the doorway was Usagi-san, standing completely still as he leaned against the frame. Even as bleary-eyed as he was, Misaki could see the drastic change in his boyfriend's demeanour. Usagi-san's smug smirk had vanished, replaced with a worn, haggard expression that rivalled even the author's post-deadline morning face.

Slowly, he descended the stairs. Misaki watched him trudge, zombie-like, over to the coffee table and pick up a half-empty packet of cigarettes.

Only after he'd lit up, taken a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke did Usagi-san turn his attention to Misaki. Disturbed, lavender eyes found his boyfriend's barely focused ones.

"Where's the bleach?"

Misaki blinked bovinely. "Huh?"

"The bleach," Usagi-san repeated. He was looking rather green in the face. "I need to rinse out my eyeballs."

His voice was flat and hoarse. The younger man threw up his hands drunkenly.

"I- hic- _told_ you!"

Usagi-san seemed stunned as he shook his head. Whatever he'd read up there, he was clearly still struggling to process it. Slowly, he sank into the couch beside Misaki, grabbing one of the remaining beer cans and taking a huge swig.

After wiping his mouth, he leaned forwards and let out a heavy sigh, for once in his life seeming to be lost for words. Misaki didn't blame him. A minute or two went by before he finally managed a weak response:

"I didn't expect… I mean, I didn't think it would be _that_ awful."

Taking a sip from his own can, Misaki nodded, only somewhat sympathetically. Yes, he pitied Usagi-san- whatever remaining shreds of innocence he may have possessed having been torn away- but he had brought this on himself. He should have heeded Misaki's warning.

"You were right, Misaki," he went on, the cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Stale-smelling smoke filled the air and hung over them in a grey cloud, perfectly matching the grim, aghast state the two of them now shared. "We can't let this continue any longer. We have to put an end to those fangirls and their so-called 'fanfiction'."

His voice was grave and dripping with contempt, pale irises echoing with horrific recollections as they stared into Misaki's. " _No-one_ should have to go through what we just went through."

Misaki swayed, beer sloshing out of the can and onto the pink cushions. "What did I tell ya?" he slurred. "Those stories are the grossest, most disgustingest things ever written an' ish all your fault, Ushagi-shan! Ish- hic- _your_ responsibility to get rid of 'em!"

Beside him, Usagi-san had been puffing on his cigarette and looking to be concentrating on not throwing up at the memories of what he'd just read, but after Misaki made this proclamation he raised his head to him, blinking.

"Oh, the _stories_ were great," he said.

" _Hah?!_ " Lurching forwards, Misaki stared bug-eyed at his boyfriend. Surely, he'd misheard that, right? Right?! "Whaddaya mean, the stories were great? Didn't ya- hic- see what happened to me in those things?!"

A silver head nodded distractedly. "Yeah, yeah, some really innovative ideas. I even noted a few down." A large hand raked through his hair and he shuddered. "The content was fine, but the _writing_ …"

He took another gulp of beer. Meanwhile, Misaki's own can slipped from his hand, clattering to the wooden floorboards. He gaped at Usagi-san.

" _That's_ your only issue with this?" he said. "The _writing_?"

"Yes," said Usagi-san, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Are you telling me you didn't notice it?"

"Why would I be paying attention to the _writing_?!" Misaki cried, beside himself. "I was too busy trying not to stab pencils through my eyes or projectile vomit all over my laptop to notice the odd missing apostrophe!"

He expected his boyfriend to agree with him, but of course he should have known better. Usagi-san shrugged.

"To be honest, I found the actual stories rather enjoyable." However, his features quickly contorted once again as he continued, alternating between drinking and smoking. "But the spelling… the grammar… It was like reading something written by a toddler. I got through ten thousand words just now, and I don't think I saw a single comma…"

Misaki continued to stare. Usagi-san's deranged fangirls had shamelessly plagued the internet with depictions of his sweet uke as some slutty, sordid little fuck toy... and he was miffed about the spelling errors? "You can't be serious."

"I'm telling you, Misaki, it was _unfathomable_!" he said, misunderstanding. The novelist screwed his eyes shut and downed the rest of his beer.

"Not capitals or line breaks, ten exclamation points in a row, author's notes right in the middle of paragraphs…" he relayed, and rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. "Oh, and some of those euphemisms were downright terrible! Did you read the one where someone compared your nipples to pencil erasers?"

" _Usagi-san!_ " Misaki cut across, incredulous, "Who gives a rat's ass about the spelling, or the grammar, or anything like that?! If you're going to complain about something, complain about the absolute vulgarity of those stupid stories!"

Usagi-san waved a hand.

"Oh, please, that was tame stuff," he said. He blew out another plume of smoke. "Those fangirls may have butchered the language, but the content wasn't half bad.

"In fact, if only the writers were the slightest bit literate, they could produce some really decent BL stories from those ideas…"

All of a sudden, he trailed off, the cigarette pausing halfway to his lips. Misaki watched with mounting dread as a thoughtful expression crossed his boyfriend's features.

"Usagi-san…"

Abruptly, the author bent to stub out his cigarette. When he straightened up again, his face held a new look of decisiveness.

"If you need me, I'll be in my office."

With that, he turned and started walking briskly towards the staircase. His stomach plummeting into his shoes as he realised his boyfriend's intentions, Misaki leapt from the couch in a panic, but due to his booze-addled brain ended tumbling flat on his face.

 _No!_ What had Misaki done?! He _couldn't_ let the horrors of fanfiction dot net spread any further than the digital world!

Frantically, he struggled up onto his arms, but Usagi-san was already halfway up the stairs.

"Usagi-san!" he screamed after the man's retreating back. It, along with the rest of the condo, was starting to spin. "Usagi-san, don't you- hic- _dare_!"

It was too late- the door to Usagi-san's office closed. Defeated, Misaki dropped his head and stayed there on his hands and knees, watching the floorboards beneath him begin to turn black. Before oblivion took him, he gathered the last of his fuzzy thoughts into a single, bitter curse upon himself.

 _Why did I ever visit that fucking website?_

* * *

 **...**

 **I'm sorry.**

 **Like I said, I don't even know why I wrote this. I guess I just wanted to do something a bit cracky and dumb, and I was thinking about whether or not fanfiction existed in the JR universe and how the characters would react to it, and the result was, well, this. Ah, well- It was fun to write. XD**

 **Anyway, I'm not expecting high praise for this one as it is a completely stupid thing I put zero effort into, but if you made it all the way to the end, I hope it at least made you smile. I promise the next oneshot I do will be a serious one... probably. ^^;;**

 **Thank you and congratulations for reading this all the way through, and I will see you next time, my lovely readers. :3**

 **P.S. High-five to those of you who have also been consumed by the black hole that is this website. XD**

 **Note: This oneshot is in no way intended to be a criticism of other fanfiction writers. I am well aware that there are plenty of tasteful, well-written JR fics out there; this is just a silly little story I wrote to poke fun at the stereotype that all fanfiction is disturbing and badly written. So, my fellow fanfic addicts, please do not take offense to this oneshot. :)**


	5. Chapter 5:Pumpkins, Parades and Perverts

**Happy Halloween, everyone! How have you all been celebrating?**

 **Now, I know it's really bad of me to be posting all these oneshots when I haven't updated 'Mistakes' in over three weeks, but I have an entire week off school to finish the next chapter of that. Plus, after a fortnight of horror novels, spooky anime and dressing up as Wednesday Adams, I was really getting into the Halloween spirit, and I just reeeally wanted to try my hand at writing a Halloween-themed Romantica oneshot. So... yeah, that's my excuse. I hope you guys aren't too mad.**

 **In the meantime, please enjoy this silly, spooky-not-really-spooky oneshot I whipped up. :)**

* * *

 **5) Pumpkins, Parades and Perverts**

 **Summary: While celebrating their first Halloween together, Usagi-san has one or two tricks in store for Misaki. Who totally isn't scared or anything. (Cameos from JE, JT and other characters)**

 _ **This is basically my idea of how a Romantica Halloween would go down. I had do some research about Halloween in Japan (since the holiday hasn't really been a thing over there for that long), so it's worth noting before you read that trick-or-treating, pumpkin carving and lots of other Western Halloween traditions aren't common in Japan- they pretty much just celebrate by getting dressed up in costumes and holding parades. Mostly just silly, romancey fluff (i.e. Usagi-san being a man-child) with a spooky theme. Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

There'd been a murder in Misaki's home.

He discovered the scene of the crime on the evening of October thirty-first, when he arrived back at the condo from work. Intending to start dinner before a certain someone cornered him for a daily dose of rabid rabbit sex, he unlocked the door, dumped his bulging briefcase on the floor with a sigh and made his way into the kitchen- only to recoil in horror at the gruesome sight that greeted him.

"What the _hell_?"

It seemed his lovely kitchen had harboured an act of homicide in his absence… if it was possible to commit veggie-homicide, anyway. Three bodies (mottled green and possibly once recognisable as pumpkins) lay on the countertop, hacked to bits, their innards splattered over every wall and surface like some kind of vegetal road kill.

The perpetrator stood over them, a gleaming knife in hand. Upon hearing Misaki's exclamation, he glanced up from… whatever it was he was doing and said, "Welcome home."

"Usagi-san?" Misaki said, blinking in bewilderment. He stepped further into the room. The author, like the countertop, was streaked with stringy, orange pumpkin guts, and he was using his knife to carve big chunks out of the vegetables. It was the most bizarre thing Misaki had ever laid eyes on (and that, as an Usami's roommate, was saying something), but Usagi-san looked oddly absorbed in his task.

"How was work?" he asked without looking up.

Misaki ignored him. "What _is_ all this?" He peered at the three mutilated pumpkins with a mixture of confusion, mild disgust and annoyance. "Usagi-san, I was going to make soup out of those."

"You can use the leftovers," Usagi-san replied. He gestured to the square of newspaper beside him, where it seemed he had tried but certainly not succeeded to keep all the pumpkin entrails in one pile.

Closing his eyes, Misaki took a deep breath and counted, very slowly, to ten in his head. When he was done, he asked, "Did you try and make your own dinner again?" Honestly, he'd _told_ Usagi-san about messing around in the kitchen… "Why didn't you just wait for me to get home instead of maiming these innocent pumpkins?"

Usagi-san laughed. He set the knife down, turning to the sink to wash away the flat seeds stuck to his hands.

"I wasn't cooking," he said. Drying off with a dishtowel, he walked back to the counter and gazed down at the three pumpkins fondly. It was the same kind of look he often gave Suzuki-san. "It being the season and everything, I just had a sudden urge to revisit my childhood, that's all."

Misaki watched as a globule of orange slime fell from the ceiling with a dull _splat_. "Yeah, I'm gonna need more information."

Smiling, his boyfriend picked up one of the ruined pumpkins and handed it to Misaki. "It's a Halloween tradition in England," he explained. "You scoop out the inside of a pumpkin and carve a face on it. See?"

"Oh…" Misaki, who had completely forgotten it was Halloween, looked down at Usagi-san's creation with surprise; what he'd taken for a random pattern of scars and slices on the front of the pumpkin was actually a rather skilfully whittled teddy-bear head. He turned the other two pumpkins around to face him. On one was a rabbit, and on the other a panda bear with a moustache.

"When you're done you turn it into a lantern," Usagi-san went on, taking his silver lighter from his breast pocket and flicking it open. Amongst the mess on the countertop were three squat little candles, and once he'd lit them, the author carefully placed one inside each of the hollowed-out pumpkins. Misaki watched, fascinated, as Usagi-san then replaced the sliced-off pumpkin crowns on top like lids.

"It looks better if you use those big orange pumpkins," he remarked, swivelling the finished products around to face Misaki. "But you can't get them in this country."

Though he was still upset about the kitchen, Misaki couldn't help but smile at the little pumpkin-lanterns. Even with the candle flames making them flicker eerily against the dark green skin, Usagi-san's designs still managed to look cute.

"Heh, that's pretty neat," he said, picking up the one with the glowing teddy-bear face to admire it. He was surprised someone as clumsy in the kitchen as Usagi-san had made such a thing. "You're good at these, Usagi-san. Who taught you, your dad?"

Given Usagi-chichi's obsession with wood carvings, it seemed like a reasonable guess, but Usagi-san shook his head.

"No, he never had time for that sort of thing," he said, but he was still smiling faintly. Lilac eyes took on a glazed, faraway look as he began to reminisce. "Tanaka taught me. Every year, he'd get the cooks to set the biggest pumpkin aside for us. Then he'd sneak me into the kitchen so we could carve it together."

"That's sweet," said Misaki, replacing the bear pumpkin. He'd never seen anything like it before; it was easy to forget that his boyfriend had spent the first ten years of his life in a foreign country, but things like these lanterns- even if they were just a kiddie holiday activity to Usagi-san- made him seem nothing short of exotic in Misaki's eyes. "What are you supposed to do with them? Are they just for decoration?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Sort of," said Usagi-san. He began picking up the pumpkins and arranging them on the shelf above, recalling aloud as he did so how the people in England would put their big, orange pumpkin-lanterns out on their doorsteps instead. "To attract the trick-or-treaters," he told his boyfriend.

"Trick-or-treaters?"

Usagi-san explained, and Misaki raised an eyebrow. "You just knocked on people's doors and demanded candy?" He knew Westerners could be informal, but that just sounded plain rude to Misaki.

The pumpkin in Usagi-san's hands paused for a moment before he placed it on the shelf. "Well, no. _I_ didn't," he said. The corners of his mouth turned down a little. "I never got to do any of that stuff. Of course."

Misaki had heard enough about Usagi-san's crappy childhood to know where this was going. "Your parents?"

A slow nod. "They thought holidays like Halloween were a waste of time," Usagi-san said. He was staring into the eyes of his bear carving, and his face, bathed in candlelight, had hardened. "Tanaka could only do so much. We never had any decorations, and no trick-or-treaters came to our house because my father would always have the gates locked.

"I never got to wear a costume or duck for apples with my classmates. I've never even been trick-or-treating. Not once."

By the time he was finished talking, Misaki could hear the resentment lacing his voice. He imagined a tiny, eight-year-old Usagi-san, sitting alone in his empty mansion in England on a dark Halloween night, staring listlessly out of the window while all the other children were dressing up and running around collecting goodies- and felt a familiar pinch to his heart.

"But, Usagi-san, you don't even like candy," he offered weakly.

The author glanced at him, as if he'd forgotten Misaki was there listening. His shoulders rose and fell.

"I know. But that's not the point." Thoughtfully, he reached out and touched one of his pumpkin carvings, and it seemed to Misaki like the older man could see all of those past lonely Halloweens flickering by in his childish drawing.

"I never got to do anything normal, or fun. I suppose I was carving the pumpkins because I wanted to pretend I was celebrating like everyone else, but…"

He trailed off, and Misaki had to swallow a lump in his throat. An expression of unbearable gloominess had settled over Usagi-san's features, which Misaki suddenly found himself desperate to wipe away somehow. "Well… _we_ could still have a fun Halloween," he tried.

The author's silver head lifted a little. He eyed Misaki inquisitively. "Yeah?"

"Yeah!" said Misaki, forgetting all about dinner and the ruined kitchen for the moment. He'd never really celebrated Halloween before, but how hard could it be? An idea sprang to mind. "In fact, why don't we go out tonight and celebrate together?"

"Like a date?"

"Uh…" Misaki reddened, but shrugged and said, "Sure, I guess. If it would cheer you up."

It seemed the very offer had already lifted Usagi-san's spirits considerably; his mouth quirked into a smile again, and he brought a hand to his chin. "Alright, then. What do you propose?"

"Well…" The younger man thought for a moment. "I think there's a cosplay gathering in town tonight, and a parade. If you want, we could get dressed up and go along."

It may not have been quite the same as the pumpkin-carving, apple-ducking fright-fest of Usagi-san's English childhood, but it was pretty much the only kind of Halloween celebration Japan had to offer. Nonetheless, it seemed to pique Usagi-san's interest.

"Hmm…" he said, rubbing his chin. "I'm not a fan of crowds, but I _have_ always wanted to wear a costume on Halloween…"

Seeing how his mood had lightened, Misaki smiled with relief and squeezed his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Okay, it's a da- I mean, okay," he said quickly. Before Usagi-san could use the rare (if rather chaste) display of affection as an excuse to pounce him, he grabbed a sponge from the sink and started swabbing at the slimy kitchen counter. It really was like a pumpkin massacre. "Give me a hand cleaning up, and then we'll go costume shopping."

Usagi-san happily complied, scrubbing away at the walls with vigour. He looked excited.

"Can we do special effects make-up and everything?"

"Sure, if you want."

"Can we get cheap candy?"

"As long as you eat it."

"Misaki?"

"Hm?"

"Can I choose the costume you wear?"

The wet sponge hurtled into Usagi-san's face with a splash. "Absolutely not!"

* * *

Despite his wish to experience a 'commoner's Halloween', Usagi-san, after removing all trace of pumpkin slaughterings from the kitchen, drove the two of them to the most expensive costume boutique in the district. Misaki was sat in the changing room, surrounded by approximately five thousand yen's worth of make-up belonging to Aikawa-san, whom Usagi-san had collected on the way at her own request. She was squeezed into the cubicle with him, smearing all manner of God-knows-what over his face.

"And… finished!" she declared, setting down her make-up sponge, which was blotted with face paint. She turned Misaki around by the shoulders so he was facing the mirror. "What do you think?"

Looking over his reflection, Misaki couldn't help but laugh; he'd opted for a zombie costume, and the older editor had managed to turn every visible inch of skin a luminous green colour. In all honesty, he looked more like Shrek than a walking corpse, but it didn't really matter to Misaki.

"Perfect. Thanks, Aikawa-san."

She grinned, and took a step backwards. "How about me?"

"Uh…" He hesitated. Aikawa-san's short, red dress was squeezing her so tightly Misaki was surprised she hadn't turned into a diamond yet. She had two little devil's horns and a tail to match, as well as what looked like an entire tube of red lipstick around her mouth. She struck a pose in front of him and waited.

With a weak smile, Misaki gave her a thumbs up and said, "You look great, Aikawa-san."

The editor beamed and grabbed Misaki's hand, dragging him out of the changing room. The boutique was packed- not only with other people, but with every kind of costume under the sun. Many of the customers (as well as the staff) had already changed, and Misaki couldn't help but stare at some of the crazy get-ups. He'd always thought Halloween costumes were supposed be things like clowns and mummies, but the more he looked the more it seemed like people would dress up as just about anything for this holiday; the females, in particular, were apparently just using the costume element as an excuse to swan around in as little as possible. There were superheroes, animals, fairies, pirates, anime characters, even _objects_.

"I've never seen so many costumes before…"

Clomping through the other shoppers in her five-inch heels, Aikawa-san looked back to raise an eyebrow at him. "Is this really your first time cosplaying as anything? I'd have thought Usami-sensei would have forced you to play dress-up with him in the bedroom by now," she added with a wink.

"I'm as surprised as you are," said Misaki dryly. "The creep…"

They found said creep perusing the racks on the other side of the boutique, his brow furrowed in concentration. As they approached him, he looked up from the skeleton costume he was inspecting and immediately made a face at Aikawa-san's smudgy red mouth. "What are you, the Joker?"

His editor tossed her flaming hair indignantly. "Really, sensei! Why can't you be a gentleman like your boyfriend?" She put an arm around Misaki, who had to cover his mouth to keep from spluttering.

"You're right, Aikawa-san, I'm sorry," said the author in a tone that suggested otherwise. His eyes gave her devil suit a quick once-over. "In fact, I've never seen an outfit that more accurately captures your inner self."

Aikawa-san jabbed him with her plastic trident.

"Do you like _my_ costume, Usagi-san?" Misaki asked, doing a full turn in his tattered shirt and pants. His boyfriend considered him for a moment.

"I still think that one would have suited you better." He jerked his head towards a different outfit hanging on a nearby rack, causing Misaki to groan.

"For the last time, Usagi-san, I am _not_ wearing that."

Aikawa-san took it off the hanger; it consisted of a pair of furry, yellow shorts with a stubby tail, a matching tube top, leg and hand warmers with paw prints on them and a pair of fuzzy teddy bear ears. She held it against the younger man's torso.

"But Misaki-kun, it would look so cute on you!"

Clasping his forehead, Misaki inwardly berated himself. _Why did I suggest this again?_ Stupid Usagi and his tragic childhood…

"It's a _girl's costume_ ," he growled.

His disgruntled, green face just made the editor giggle. "It's a shame you two aren't coming to the party at Marukawa," she said, moving the costume away from Misaki but not replacing it. Usagi-san paused and looked up, frowning.

"Isaka-san didn't tell me he was having a Halloween party."

"That's probably because of what you did to Ijuuin-sensei at the _last_ party," Misaki reminded him in a grumble, cringing as he remembered the unfortunate incident last Christmas wherein Usagi-san had caught the drunken mangaka with his hand down Misaki's pants.

The author waved his hand. "Oh, I barely touched him."

"I think the paramedics they had to call would disagree."

Usagi-san just shrugged, entirely unaffected. "Well, no matter," he said, smiling at Misaki. "I'd much rather spend Halloween with you than at some boring party."

"Sensei, have you decided yet?" asked his editor.

In the hour or so it had taken his companions to get ready, Usagi-san still hadn't chosen a costume. His forehead creased anew upon hearing the question, and he turned back to the clothes rack.

"It's a much harder decision than I thought," he said. He looked like he'd been given a really difficult math problem to work out. "Now I understand why most people do this weeks in advance…"

Ever the style advisor, Aikawa-san immediately joined him in the search. She filed dutifully through the rows of wigs, rubber masks and capes, picking out various outfits and holding them up against her author's frame while she pursed her lips in thought.

"Hmm… You might suit a werewolf, with doggy ears and a tail. Or, _ooh_ , you could be a sexy policeman, or a fireman…" Suddenly, she dropped everything she was holding and squealed, pointing to an ensemble of black leather straps that looked like it belonged in Christian Grey's Red Room. "Oh my God, that one! Definitely that one!"

Misaki said, "If you get that one, I'm breaking up with you"

Thankfully, Usagi-san shook his head.

"No, no, I have to look like a commoner…" He looked from his boyfriend to his editor, and from his expression one would think it was a matter of life or death. "What's the most generic, ordinary Halloween costume there is?"

 _He's taking this really seriously…_ While Misaki scratched his head, wondering if he was maybe going to regret this later on, Aikawa-san's face brightened.

"Well, that's easy," she said. She turned and started rummaging through the rack beside her, eventually letting out a triumphant 'ha!' and pulling something out on its hanger with a flourish: a vampire costume, cape, cravat and all.

"Ta-dah!" she trilled. "The most overused horror cliché of all time! Ooh, sensei, you're going to look so _handsome_ …"

Usagi-san's eyes flashed. "Perfect."

"Will that be all, sir?" asked the clerk five minutes later, batting her long false eyelashes. She was dressed in a rather scandalous nurse's uniform, but despite her efforts, Usagi-san didn't seem to notice. Instead, he pointed to the bear costume.

"That one, too."

" _Usagi-san!"_

* * *

After doing her author's make-up for him (which, given that he was an adult man, took longer than it really should have), Aikawa-san left for Marukawa, doing an odd hobble-trot down the street in her tight skirt. Misaki and Usagi-san went in the other direction, towards the boulevard where the parade was supposed to happen. The moon was already high above the city skyline, and a nippy October gale sent crispy leaves skittering by as they walked.

A trio of young women in fishnets and animal ears passed them, and Misaki shook his head, amazed. "How the hell do all these girls walk around like that in this weather?" he muttered. The cold air was pimpling his skin through the holes in his zombie shirt, and he pulled his jacket tightly around himself.

Usagi-san wasn't paying attention to anyone else's costume; he was too distracted by his own. He looked very proud of his vampire outfit- Perhaps a little _too_ proud, Misaki thought, watching his boyfriend stride along with his back straight and his chin raised as though he were Count Dracula himself. His cape swished dramatically around him as he turned to look at the smaller man.

"What about me? How do I look?"

"Like a grown man pretending to be a vampire."

He grinned, showing off his new glue-in fangs. "Excellent."

They continued on their way. Many other cosplayers passed them, and while there were some incredibly creative costumes, nobody seemed to pull off their outfits quite as well as Usagi-san did the vampire suit; Misaki would rather die than admit it, but if he was being honest, his boyfriend looked the part. Whereas his costume was nothing but the bare essentials (raggedy clothes, green skin and a few splashes of fake blood), Usagi-san, in typical Usami fashion, had gone all-out. Aikawa-san had given him dark circles around his eyes and a thin, red trickle at the corner of his mouth, and she'd even bought some hair gel to slick his silver locks back off his forehead. The cape had a high collar, framing his white face, and he wore a waistcoat made of dark purple velvet that brought out his lavender irises. It might have been the most typical of all Halloween costumes, Misaki thought, but somehow, Usagi-san managed to stand out rather than blend in.

Not that the costume made him look _sexy_ or anything. Not at all.

After a while, the scattered cosplayers began to file into a steady stream, all heading towards the boulevard. The couple joined them, sticking close to each other in the crush (not that that was difficult, what with Misaki's green face shining through the dark like a lamp). It was a long and cold walk- but the look on Usagi-san's face when they finally arrived more than made up for it. His expression of vampiric vanity vanished, replaced with one of such utter awe that it was almost comical.

"Look at this place," he murmured, half to himself. "It's just like on TV…"

Misaki laughed. The street did look pretty cool, he supposed, albeit in a slightly cheesy sort of way. Green and purple lights were twisted around lampposts, and strings of little white ghosts and black bats fluttered above their heads. There were even pumpkins- not little green ones, but huge, plump, orange ones like Usagi-san had described. Misaki wondered how much they cost.

"The parade doesn't start for another three hours," he said to Usagi-san. He had to shout a little over the noise; not only was the crowd heaving, but there was also chilling music pouring from some unknown source. "What do you want to do until then?"

There was no lack of entertainment on the boulevard. As well all the regular stores, which were staying open late, various stalls- most of them selling candy or Halloween-themed merchandise- had been set up, costumed vendors behind them loudly announcing their wares.

Still gazing wide-eyed at their surroundings, Usagi-san grabbed Misaki's hand and gripped it tightly.

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

Misaki sighed. "Everything it is." He wouldn't have expected Akihiko Usami to settle for anything less.

* * *

True to his word, Usagi-san proceeded to drag Misaki up and down the entire street and back again, stopping every five minutes and marvelling at the products on display. Misaki couldn't say he shared his enthusiasm- it was mostly just 'spooky' pranks and gags, like toy rats and plastic severed hands- but watching the childlike wonder glittering in Usagi-san's eyes as he beheld them was entertainment enough for him.

 _He's like a little kid_ , Misaki thought to himself, smiling as Usagi-san exchanged a fascinated stare with a glassy fake eyeball. So what if this holiday was just another tacky westernisation designed to make money? If Usagi-san was enjoying himself, then Misaki was content.

… At least, he was until around their third trip back up the avenue. By then he couldn't help but grow a _tiny_ bit exasperated; it didn't help that Usagi-san couldn't seem to walk past a single stall without buying something from it.

"Usagi-san," he panted, struggling to keep up as he was pulled through the thronging crowd. "Usagi-san, slow down! There's no hurry."

Laden with plastic shopping bags under his cape now, the novelist took no notice of his request. If anything, he started walking faster.

"But there's a whole table of cheap candy over there. I have to get there before they sell out."

"But you don't even _like_ candy…" Misaki muttered, his words getting lost in the excited babble of the crowd. He doubted they would have deterred Usagi-san anyway; he practically barged his way through to the table, stopping in front of it and staring down at the array of pumpkin-shaped lollipops and jelly spiders as if they were rare antiques, or gold.

After surveying the stall for about a minute, he looked up at the vendor. "Leave one of each kind, but I want all the rest."

"Okay, that's it!" Grabbing him by the cape, Misaki hauled his boyfriend- already with his wallet in hand- away before he could bankrupt himself. He ignored the older man's protests. "You need to stop buying so much useless junk, Usagi-san. You already wasted a fortune on that stupid bear outfit," he said, throwing the boutique bag amongst Usagi-san's many others a dirty look.

In the greenish light of the square, Usagi-san's pointed canines flashed. "I didn't waste my money. You can wear it later tonight," he said with a lecherous leer.

Misaki just snorted. "If you seriously think I'm _ever_ putting that thing on, then all that face paint must be leaking toxic chemicals into your brain."

Sighing in mock-hurt, Usagi-san shifted all his shopping bags onto one arm so he'd have a free one to wrap around Misaki's shoulders. "But it would look so good on you." He drew the boy in close under his cape. Misaki rolled his eyes, but stayed there because it was warm.

"It would look _ridiculous_." Glancing down at his bloodied rags and luminous skin, however, he laughed sheepishly. "Well, I guess I look kind of ridiculous anyway."

"I think you look rather lovely, actually."

"Usagi-san, I'm dressed as a dead person."

"A dead gorgeous person."

"That's _terrible_ ," said Misaki, scowling. His face was hot. "Can't you do better than that, mister bestselling author?"

Seeing straight through his poorly concealed embarrassment, Usagi-san stooped to drop a kiss on top of Misaki's unruly, dark head. "Awful, but true." They were right at the other end of the street now, further than they'd been before, and something suddenly seemed to catch the author's eye. "Hey, look, a bear."

Craning his neck to see over the sea of heads, Misaki saw that there was indeed a large teddy bear standing nearby- or, more precisely, a person in a teddy bear suit. It held a bunch of brightly coloured balloons in one paw, looking rather out-of-place amidst all the scary costumes, and for some reason Misaki thought it seemed strangely familiar.

 _Probably just because my boyfriend has bears on the brain_ , he thought; indeed, Usagi-san was already pulling him towards the mascot. "Only get _one_ balloon, Usagi-san."

"Happy Halloween!" said the bear when they approached it, handing them each a skull-shaped balloon. Then, "Would you like to visit our haunted house? It's been known to be the scariest in Tokyo."

"Haunted house…?" Following the bear's pointing paw, Misaki's eyes quickly found a line of balloon-wielding customers waiting in front of the attraction's entrance, which was guarded by a bespectacled skeleton who Misaki recognised immediately. He broke into a grin.

"I thought so. Hey, Sumi-senpai!"

He jogged over, breaking away from Usagi-san. His old classmate only looked surprised for a moment before he smiled as well (although, with the skull make-up he was smiling anyway).

"Misaki." He raised a bony hand in greeting, looking pleased to see his old friend. He looked even more pleased, however, when he saw who was with him. The smile widened. "And Usami-sensei. I didn't expect to see the two of you here. Cool costumes."

"Thanks," said Misaki, grinning. Usagi-san, whose face had soured, tried to walk off, but Misaki caught him by the corner of his cape. "I see you brought your famous haunted house to the Halloween parade."

"Well, we made quite a bit of cash from it at school, so I figured, why not?" Sumi replied in that smooth voice of his. Even as he spoke, coins jingled into his waiting palm as people passed him into the entrance. "Business has been great so far- I think I even saw a couple of my old university professors.

"Feel free to check it out if you want, Misaki, sensei," Sumi went on, nodding to each of them in turn. "There's still a couple of hours until the parade."

Grinning eagerly, Misaki nodded. "Sure, it sounds like fun!"

"No it doesn't." Usagi-san, still giving Sumi the evil eye, turned on his heel, but Misaki grabbed him yet again, tugging him towards the back of the line.

"Stop being childish, Usagi-san," Misaki hissed once they were out of earshot. "I know you don't like Sumi-senpai, but there's no need to be so rude."

His boyfriend's 'hmph' dissolved into a white cloud in the cold autumn air. "I'm not being childish. I just think haunted houses are stupid."

"Oh, please," said Misaki, scoffing. "You were the one losing your mind over a bunch of kids' toys."

Though he tried to maintain his unhappy face, Misaki could tell Usagi-san was curious as they joined the line for the house. Most of the other customers were holding balloons, and they were bouncing on their tiptoes in an attempt to keep warm. The house was draped from head to toe in gauzy cobwebs, and if Misaki listened closely, he could have sworn he could hear screaming coming from inside.

"Have you been inside before?"

"No, I just helped senpai manage it," said Misaki. He pointed to the guy in the bear costume. "I was the one giving out the balloons."

Usagi-san tutted. "So you'll dress up like a bear if _he_ tells you to…"

Before Misaki could make a retort, a cluster of about ten people suddenly burst from the back exit of the haunted house, blubbering. They scrambled hastily away, faces ranging from queasy to furious to downright traumatised. Many of them were in tears. The only one who didn't look at all affected was a boy who might have been a little younger than Misaki, griping to a much older man at his side.

"I'm going to ask for my money back," he said, a sneer on his green, leafy face (was he supposed to be a… a head of _cabbage_?). "That was _so_ boring- Those special effects weren't scary at all."

The older man rubbed the back of his head wearily. "Yes, they certainly pale in comparison to you, Shinobu-chin…"

As they walked away, Usagi-san nudged Misaki's side. "See, that kid says it wasn't even scary. Let's go do something else instead of giving that brat our money."

"Usagi-san! Sumi-senpai is not a-"

"Akihiko, is that you?"

They turned, and Misaki nearly jumped out of his skin as he was confronted with the most frightening thing he'd seen all evening: namely, the face of his infamous former literature professor, Kamijou the Devil.

"K-Kamijou-sensei?!" Misaki stammered, even though the teacher wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he was regarding Akihiko with a raised eyebrow.

"Akihiko, what in God's name are you wearing?"

Seeing his childhood friend, Usagi-san forgot his bad mood in an instant. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and he leaned against the handrail that cordoned off the line.

"Hiroki, what a surprise," he drawled, turning to face the other with a regal whip of his cape. He looked the professor up and down. "I should be asking you the same thing. Where's your costume?"

Kamijou was, in fact, the only person in sight who was dressed normally, wearing nothing but a shirt, tie and slacks. Sniffing, he flicked a lock of cinnamon hair out of his eyes.

"Catch me playing dress-up like a five-year-old girl," he grumbled, but proceeded to explain, "Since everyone at the university is afraid of me anyway, Nowaki said my costume should just be myself. It was his idea to come here," he said, jerking his head at the man beside him.

He was pretty hard to miss- one, because he was so tall, and two, because from the moment Kamijou emerged from the haunted house, this Nowaki guy had been clinging like a limpet to his arm. He was dressed as Frankenstein's monster, but nonetheless, the giant looked anything but frightening as he clutched onto the shorter man. He was quaking with fear.

"The haunted house was a little too much for him," Kamijou told them.

"I-I want to go h-h-home now, Hiro-san," his pale-faced companion managed to stutter, causing Kamijou to raise his eyes to the heavens.

"For God's sake, it was just a bunch of plastic skeletons, you big wuss! You're a doctor! You look at _real_ skeletons all the time!"

They wandered away, Nowaki still whimpering and Kamijou still barking at him. Misaki watched them leave and laughed heartily.

"What a baby, eh, Usagi-san?"

They shuffled forwards as the line moved. The author raised his eyebrows. "You're one to talk."

"Eh?!" Misaki froze in his tracks, and the person behind him walked smack into his back, triggering a pile-up all the way through the line. There were grumbled complaints from the other customers, and Misaki mumbled an apology, flushing. He glared up at Usagi-san. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can't be serious." Sniggering, Usagi-san gave his boyfriend a teasing cuff about the head. "Misaki, you're just about the wimpiest person I know."

Misaki's jaw dropped, and his voice rose involuntarily in volume. "Excuse me?!"

"You're scared of _everything_ ," Usagi-san said. His mouth had twisted into that annoying smirk again. "You do that girly little scream of yours at least ten times a day."

"That's because you're always sneaking up and groping me, you- Wait, _girly_?"

The author nodded, chuckling at Misaki's flabbergasted face. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he assured him, giving him a few condescending pats on the head. "I still love my little scaredy-cat all the same."

At this point, it was a wonder the green face paint didn't start sizzling on Misaki's cheeks. His mouth opened and closed, goldfish-like, and his fists clenched by his sides.

"That's not- How could- Why you- I am _not_ a scaredy-cat!" he said finally.

"Sure you're not."

"I'm _not_!" he cried, outraged. _Girly…_ In the line, heads were turning. He glared at Usagi-san. "Have you forgotten that I _love_ creepy stuff? Horror movies, ghost stories… I'm not scared of any of them!"

"You nearly had a heart attack when I woke you up the other day."

"That's because you woke me up by grabbing my-!" He clapped a hand over his mouth, jolting, and Usagi-san laughed.

"Don't try and deny it, Misaki," he said. The smirk hadn't disappeared. "I bet you won't even make it to midnight without screaming at something."

Grinding his teeth, Misaki planted his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out, leaning towards the author's face.

"Yeah? Well, _I_ bet that I _will_ , so there."

They were almost to the entrance now. Cocking his head, Usagi-san brought a hand to his chin. "Oh, you want to make this interesting, do you?"

Green eyes narrowed. _I'll show you, you smug bunny bastard._

"Sure, why not?" he said. He glanced at the large clock tower that stood over the boulevard; it was half past nine. Raising a declarative finger, he asserted, "Usagi-san, unless I scream once within the next two and a half hours, you have to…"

He thought for a moment, and then grinned wickedly, a row of white teeth splitting his green face in half. "Eat one bell pepper for every piece of cheap candy you just bought."

His boyfriend's smirk shrank just a little, but he nodded his assent.

"Very well. But if I _can_ make you scream before midnight," he said, the corners of his mouth curling slowly upwards again, "you have to wear the sexy bear costume for an entire day."

Misaki spluttered. "What? No!"

"Backing out already, are we?" said Usagi-san silkily. Something that could only be described as utter malice glittered in his eyes. "Someone's more scaredy-cat than he cares to admit."

Growling, Misaki stuck his nose in the air. "Fine, whatever. It doesn't matter anyway, 'cause I'm the one who's gonna win this, Usagi-san," he said, crossing his arms.

"Oh, we'll see, Misaki. We'll see…" They had reached the front of the line now. Handing their change to Sumi, they stood side-by-side in front of the doorway; it loomed above them, black and gaping like a mouth, and Misaki swore he felt a cold draft as Usagi-san looked down at him and winked.

"Remember, if you scream once, you lose."

A shiver ran along Misaki's spine, but he refused to break his challenger's gaze. He squared his shoulders, walking boldly towards the entrance.

"You're on, rabbit."

* * *

The guy in the teddy bear suit hadn't been exaggerating. In fact, as he cowered his way through the halls of the haunted house- leaping with fright every two seconds, to Usagi-san's immense enjoyment- Misaki had to wonder if some of the stuff they had in here was even _legal_ … He only hoped for Sumi's sake that no old ladies with heart conditions decided to enter. Still, he managed not to scream. The same could not be said for the other visitors, however, and Misaki's ears were ringing by the time he and Usagi-san finally made it outside.

"I have to hand it to your friend- That was more entertaining than I expected," the author said. Of course, he looked entirely unruffled. He looked down at Misaki- who, despite himself, was still hanging on to Usagi-san's vampire cape- and asked, "Ready to admit defeat yet?"

Though he didn't let go, Misaki let out a snort. "No _way_ , stupid Usagi," he said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Slyly, he added, "Unless you've already given up?"

Usagi-san pursed his lips. "Not yet."

They still had an hour and a half to go before the parade started, so Usagi-san took him to a nearby movie theatre, where they watched an old horror movie in black and white. This time, not screaming was easy (probably because, unbeknownst to Usagi-san, Misaki had seen the movie before), and when he found the glass eyeball from before in his popcorn, Misaki only laughed. Usagi-san also tried blowing on his neck, putting a rubber spider he'd bought on Misaki's shoulder and holding a creepy clown mask in front of his face when the lights came on, but to no avail.

"Is that all you've got?" Misaki asked as they exited the theatre. Cosplayers were now congregating at the edges of the shadowy road, waiting for the parade to march past.

So sure of himself earlier, Usagi-san was now looking utterly perplexed. "Why is that Halloween, of all days, is the day when nothing scares you?"

Honestly, Misaki couldn't say himself. Perhaps it was because the anticipant buzz of the waiting spectators was electrifying, and all the lights and decorations and costumes were making it too hard to be scared. Perhaps it was because what had started out as a petty dispute between him and Usagi-san was actually turning out to be kind of funny. Perhaps it was because, as Usagi-san grew more and more frustrated as his boyfriend refused to scream no matter what he tried, Misaki began to enjoy himself more and more.

Perhaps, he thought to himself as the parade finally began and the music swelled and crowd cheered jubilantly around him, it was simply because Usagi-san was by his side that he found it impossible to feel truly frightened.

Not that he would actually ever _say_ that out loud, not even as when he found himself snuggled up beside his boyfriend later that night. They'd found a flight of stone steps leading to some other part of the city, and if they sat halfway up they had a decent view of the parade without having to squeeze through the mass of spectators. They were huddled beneath Usagi-san's heavy cape for warmth- his abundance of shopping bags piled up next to them- munching their way through candied apples in comfortable silence. Aside from a brief tussle when Usagi-san tried to get Misaki to scream by tickling him, it was very peaceful.

Misaki breathed in the scent of soap and cigarettes, soft velvet cushioning his cheek. The parade inched along in an endless, brightly coloured procession, mascots waving, acrobats leaping, shiny confetti twinkling under the lights. The music from the band and the crowd's chatter was pleasantly subdued by the distance. With the huge, silvery full moon hanging over it all like a crown, it really did look quite spectacular.

He was so caught up in just watching, and licking sticky caramel from his lips, and feeling the steady rise and fall of Usagi-san's chest beneath his cheek, that when his boyfriend suddenly spoke it surprised him.

"Thank you for this."

"For what?" asked Misaki, shifting a little to look up at him. "Proving I'm not as wimpy as you thought I was?"

He felt the author's smoky chuckle rumbling through his chest. "I just mean… this," he said. He gestured around them, at the parade and their costumes and the moon. "This whole night."

There was a burst of applause from the audience as one of the gymnasts performed some stunt or another, and Misaki settled back down to watch.

"It's not a big deal, Usagi-san."

He stifled a sleepy yawn, and the author pulled him a little closer.

"I know to you it's not," he said, murmuring into Misaki's hair. "But, still. If you hadn't offered to come here with me tonight, it would have just been another Halloween of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself. Now, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun.

"So, thank you for that." A hand snuck under Misaki's chin as he spoke, and he lifted the boy's face upwards for a gentle kiss. Not for the first time that evening, Misaki felt his cheeks colour, and was suddenly very glad of the green face paint.

For the younger man, this had been one of the weirdest nights of his life, but… he was glad of it. He was glad he'd celebrated his first Halloween with Usagi-san. Misaki didn't say that, though; instead, he poked the author's side and said,

"Y-you won't be thanking me when you lose the bet in a few minutes." He pointed to the clock tower, which read quarter to twelve. Following his finger, Usagi-san tutted.

"This won't do. I'm determined to get you into that bear costume…"

"You might as well give up, Usagi-san," said Misaki, and patted the man's chest. "Hope you're hungry for bell peppers."

"Don't get cocky. There's still time," the author reminded him. Thoughtfully, he tapped his chin. "But how to make you scream…"

Even though Misaki knew his victory was assured by now, he decided to humour his boyfriend. "You could tell me a scary story," he suggested, pulling the cape more tightly around himself.

Usagi-san hummed. "A story that would make you scream, huh? Let's see…" After a moment's consideration, Usagi-san sat up a little straighter. "Okay, I think I might have one that'll do the trick."

"I'm listening."

As Misaki closed his eyes and waited, Usagi-san cleared his throat. "Okay, here we go…

"' _Oh, Akihiko-sama,' Misaki moaned breathlessly, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat as he panted and writhed beneath his handsome tutor. 'Wait- Stop! W-we can't…'"_

Misaki's eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head. " _What_ did you say?"

"' _Oh, but Misaki, we must,' said Akihiko huskily. His fingertips wandered, torturously slow, over Misaki's trembling body. 'I want to make you_ scream _with pleasure.'"_

"Usagi-san, what the hell?!"

"… _he kissed Misaki slowly and seductively, and then, reaching downwards, began to delicately caress his-"_

Misaki clamped both his hands over the author's mouth with such force that he knocked both of them down, sending their candied apples flying. Screwing his eyes shut, he whipped his head furiously from side to side, seething.

"Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!"

Lying on his back against the stone step, Usagi-san blinked up at him innocently. "What? You asked me to tell you a story."

He was muffled by Misaki's hands, which still hadn't left his mouth. Straddling Usagi-san's stomach, the boy glared and shouted, "I meant a _ghost_ story, and you know it! Not your perverted BL crap! You can't say those dirty things out in public, you freaking moron!"

"Oh. You should have been more specific." Sitting up and dusting himself off, he asked, "So, did I win?"

Now that he was in Usagi-san's lap, Misaki tried to wriggle away, but the author held him there. So instead, he just folded his arms across his chest and huffed. "No."

"Damn…" Glancing at the clock tower- it was eight minutes to midnight- Usagi-san sighed heavily. He gave his boyfriend an apologetic look. "Very well then, Misaki. You leave me with no choice."

"Huh?"

Before he could get anything else out, Misaki was cut off with a yelp of shock as he was suddenly tipped backwards. Usagi-san's arm saved him from cracking his head open on the concrete steps, but he struggled all the same. "Wait, Usagi-san, what are you doing?!"

"Following the story Akihiko's example," he replied, hovering above the smaller man. With the inky sky behind him, the sharp fangs and the trickle of blood, Misaki thought he had never looked more predatory. "If I can't scare you, I'll simply have to make you scream in a… _different_ sort of way."

For the first time that evening, Misaki's heart skipped a beat.

"No, no, no…" He tried to crawl backwards, but the man above him kept advancing. "Usagi-san, no!" he cried, swatting frantically at those large hands as they started to wander. One of them slipped through a tear in his zombie shirt, and he hissed as cold fingertips came into contact with his flesh. "We're in _public_ , you creep, cut it out! There's like a million people right over there!"

"They're all watching the parade," Usagi-san said. He retracted his hand, only to then use both of them to push the hem of Misaki's shirt up so they could slide over his stomach and chest. He lowered himself to Misaki's throat, pointed fangs just grazing the soft skin there for a second.

"Besides, I'm positively parched for your _blood_ , Misaki," he drawled in an over-the-top vampire voice. "I won't be satiated until I get to nibble at your lovely neck..."

"Get _off_ me!"

Trapped, Misaki squirmed helplessly. Even with Usagi-san's cape shrouding them both, the air was cold, and so was the concrete beneath him, unbearable against his already heated skin.

"Ah… Usagi-san, _stop_ …"

"I'll stop when you scream for me."

"Not… ngh… gonna happen, you stupid rabbit!"

Usagi-san simply hummed. "Have it your way, then."

With that, he leaned down and began to press delicate kisses against Misaki's skin, aiming for all his most sensitive spots: the corners of his eyes, his ears, his neck- anywhere but his mouth. He didn't seem to mind the face paint. Two thumbs began working at the buds on Misaki's chest, deliberately slowly, and he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Usagi-san's breath in his ear was warm and tingly and sweet with caramel. "Scream for me, Misaki." He whispered it in a tantalising, sing-song voice.

"N… no…" Prying his eyes open, Misaki dragged them towards the clock tower. Five minutes until twelve. Only five measly minutes, but when he was pinned beneath Usagi-san like this, shivers coursing through him and sweat beading his brow, they seemed to stretch in front of him for miles and miles.

"No," he said again, gasping. "I'm not… going to lose…"

Usagi-san's wicked fangs gleamed at him through the darkness. "We'll see about that."

His hand began to glide southwards, and Misaki, powerless to stop it, could only clench his teeth and choke back the cries that were building in his throat at the sensations. He watched the clock hands. Just four more minutes. He could do this… He'd show Usagi-san…

 _Tick, tick, tick…_

Usagi-san's fingers were creeping past the waistband of his trousers now, and Misaki's were twisted so tightly in the author's crisp, white shirt it was almost tearing. Still, he did not scream. He wouldn't lose… He would _not_ lose!

"Usagi…" His voice was strained. "… san…"

"Hey, Misaki, Usagi!" came a sudden, familiar voice. Immediately, the pair froze- Usagi-san's mouth at Misaki's neck and his hand hooked around the boy's jeans- and looked up to see a figure that had seemingly materialised out of thin air on the steps beside them.

Takahiro smiled down at them, and waved. "Happy Halloween!"

The scream that rang out into the night was audible all over Tokyo.

* * *

"Oh, Misaki, I'm sorry!" said Takahiro, when Misaki had quieted. He was swathed from head to toe in mummy bandages, looking slightly alarmed as he knelt on the steps beside his petrified brother. "I didn't mean to scare you!"

"Takahiro, how nice to run into you." Usagi-san, composed and sitting upright in a microsecond, gave his friend an easy smile. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Behind Takahiro, a pointed witch's hat belonging to Manami came into view as she hurried up the steps to join him, carrying their sleepy son in her arms. He was dressed as a chubby, orange pumpkin, and rubbed his eyes as he was awoken (most likely because of Misaki).

"I didn't think we'd see you two, either!" he said, rising to stand beside his wife. "But we decided to bring Mahiro to see the parade, and Manami thought she recognised you."

Manami herself was peering down at the younger brother. "Are you okay, Misaki-kun?"

Not yet fully recovered, Misaki half-lay on the cold, concrete step, wheezing. His eyes were round. As an enormous cheer rose up from the crowd below at the parade's big finale, the clock tower began to chime twelve. There was a horrible sinking feeling in his chest, and his lower eyelid flickered.

"Yeah, Misaki, you look a little flustered," Takahiro said. Standing over his brother, he tilted his bandaged head in curiosity. "What are you doing down there, anway?"

"Uh, um, guh…" After a gibbering like a lunatic for a few seconds, he finally managed, "Stargazing?"

 _Wait,_ what?

Manami's mouth twisted knowingly to the side. "Stargazing," she repeated.

A stiff nod. "Mm-hm."

"Oh, how nice!" Beaming, Takahiro offered him a hand up. "You and Usagi are always having such fun together! I'm so glad you've gotten to be such good friends!"

Taking his brother's outstretched hand, Misaki hauled himself to his feet. He legs were wobbly when he tried to stand on them. "Y-yeah, of course, Nii-chan..." _That_ _was_ way _too close._ God knows what they would have done if Usagi-san's cape hadn't been shielding them…

Wait, this was his fault in the first place, wasn't it?! Shitty Usagi!

"Are you sure you're okay, Misaki?" Takahiro asked. "That was quite a scream!"

"I'm fine…" Misaki mumbled weakly. Up above, the enormous face of the clock tower grinned at him through the darkness. Mocking him.

Behind him, a deep voice, equally mocking. "I think all the Halloween stuff just made Misaki a little jumpy.

"You know what a scaredy-cat he is."

Takahiro laughed again, slapping an unresponsive Misaki on the back. "You said it, Usagi-san!"

Meanwhile, Manami was looking from her oblivious husband to the bedraggled Misaki to the oh-so-innocent Usagi-san with thinly veiled amusement. Smiling sympathetically at Misaki's face- which truly did look like that of a zombie now- she asked, "Um… Would you two like to come home with us for some tea?"

Before Misaki could jump at the offer, a hand landed on his shoulder, silencing him. He slumped in defeat. He knew what that hand meant: _You lost_ , it said, _You're mine now._

He swallowed.

"That's very kind of you, Manami-san, but I'm afraid we'll have to decline. Misaki and I have… other business to attend to."

Manami's hazel-brown eyes twinkled beneath the brim of her hat. "Understood."

"I guess we'll be going, then." Takahiro, unaware of Misaki's ghost-white face beneath the green paint, ruffled his little brother's hair. "By the way, Misaki, cool costume! I think this is the first time I've seen you all dressed up."

The hand gripping Misaki's shoulder tightened. When Usagi-san spoke, Misaki could practically _hear_ his triumphant smirk. "And I'm sure it won't be the last."

And so, as the boulevard began to empty and the pumpkin-lanterns sputtered out one by one and Misaki's first Halloween drew to a close, he felt his stomach twist with cold dread. The next twenty-four hours were surely going to be _unbearable_.

* * *

 **I'm sorry for the puns. Feel free to throw things at me.**

 **I was thinking of writing a crossover story instead of just a Romantica oneshot with everyone at Marukawa getting together for a Halloween party, but in the end I thought this would be more interesting. Still, I couldn't resist throwing some Egoist/Terrorist cameos in there. I feel like I was a bit mean to Aikawa-san in this fic, but I couldn't help but imagine her dressing up really slutty for Halloween. XD**

 **Anyway. Maybe not my best work, but it was really fun to write :D It was interesting trying to write about a Western holiday from a Japanese person's perspective (I almost wrote a story about Japan's 'official' spooky holiday, Obon, but I decided to save that for later) and choosing costumes for the characters, but I had the most fun with Usagi-san; I love writing his childish, dorky side :3 Of course, the last laugh had to be on Misaki, because it wouldn't be JR if it wasn't, now, would it? (BTW, when Usagi-san called Misaki's scream girly, I was thinking of that hilarious 'kya!' noise he makes in the anime. XD)**

 **I hope you guys liked the story, and again, I'm sorry to those of you still waiting for the next chapter of 'Mistakes'. It is already underway and should be finished before too long.**

 **As always, thank you sooo much for reading (and sorry for any missed typos!). To anyone who took the time to read this chapter, please, please review because I worked hard on the writing, and constructive comments really help me out. Finally, I hope you guys all had a brilliant Halloween! Love you all! :3**


	6. Chapter 6: Three Christmas Eves

**Merry Christmas, Junjou fandom! :D**

 **Of course, I couldn't let the day go by without a Christmassy oneshot about my favourite Romantica dorks (I actually intended to post this on Christmas Eve, but what with the festivities, it completely slipped my mind ^^;). While it turned out a bit darker than I expected, I hope you guys will still enjoy it- There _is_ a happy ending, so don't worry! Sorry that it is a little short, though; I only had just under a day to get it written, because the Grinches running my school decided we weren't breaking up until _the twenty-third of December!_ The injustice, right?! I sure hope you guys got a better deal, wherever you all are. XD**

* * *

 **6) Three Christmas Eves**

 **Summary: Three Christmas Eves. Ten years between each of them. Two wishing souls, who were destined to become one.**

 _ **I always wanted to write something from the perspective of young Misaki/Akihiko because I think they both have interesting backstories. I also just wanted to write a Christmas fic, and thus this little festive oneshot was born. Some heavy angst, atoned for with tooth-rotting fluff. Do enjoy.**_

* * *

The snowman gleamed with pale, midwinter moonlight. It was a rather solitary figure, standing all alone on the wide expanse of the manor grounds, with nothing but shadowy, skeletal trees for company. There was a certain eeriness about it. In fact, what with the pale glow it gave off amidst the darkness, it looked almost like something spectral; a wandering ghost, perhaps, haunting the manor grounds. Not quite what Akihiko had been going for.

The eight-year-old was on tiptoes at his bedroom window, nose and fingertips resting on the ledge. A pair of round, lavender eyes peered down at his creation. It didn't look much like the typical, jolly snowmen in Christmas cartoons, as he'd have liked it to. There was no pipe or top hat; Akihiko would have had to raid his father's wardrobe for anything like that, which was out of the question. Pinching a carrot from the kitchen for a nose was also too risky, and when he'd tried climbing a tree so he could snap off a couple of dead branches his mother had shouted at him, so the snowman didn't even have any arms. All Akihiko had managed to provide were a couple of eyes (at least he'd done that bit right; they were real coal, smuggled out of the fireplace in Akihiko's room before Tanaka lit them) that seemed to stare back up at the young boy, black and vaguely reproachful, as if to say _why am I only half-finished, you dumb kid?_

Shuddering, Akihiko stepped away from the window. He wouldn't give up hope just yet. Maybe the snowman would still be a friendly one… He frowned doubtfully, wrapping his dressing gown around himself. He knew he'd be angry if someone forgot to give him a pair of arms.

His brother Haruhiko had sneered when he'd seen him out in the garden, patting the snowy mound into a barely humanoid figure. Akihiko, undeterred, had simply stuck his nose up.

"All the other kids do it," he'd said, scooping up more snow.

"How would you know?" Haruhiko had replied. "You have so few friends that you're actually having to _build_ one for yourself."

Pretending not to care, Akihiko had waited for his brother to crunch away up the drive, and then wiped his face. His sooty gloves had left a black smudge on his cheek.

 _Yeah, well_ , he thought as he stood in his bedroom. _We'll see who's laughing when my snowman's alive._ Akihiko tingled with excitement at the thought. His brother had said it wouldn't work, but Akihiko knew it would because he'd watched a video about it at school, on the last day of term. In it, a lonely little boy just like Akihiko had built a man out of snow, and on Christmas Eve it had magically come to life and taken him flying across the country, over beautiful snowy rooftops and seas, all the way to the North Pole where they'd danced with Santa and the other snowmen all night long.

True, the story had ended on a rather gloomy note as the snowman had melted away the next morning, but this hadn't discouraged Akihiko. He knew the magic couldn't last forever. All he wished for was someone- anyone- to be his friend for a day. Just one Christmas where he wasn't alone.

And if it had worked for the boy in the video, why not him?

He peeked outside again. Like every year, the snow was deep and smooth and untouched. The bare trees were sagging with it. It glittered like the stars above it. When Akihiko saw it like this in the dead of night, rolling across the countryside in gentle, frozen waves for as far as the eye could see, like a vast white ocean, he felt more than ever like he was a million miles away from anything. From anyone.

The snowman still hadn't moved. Akihiko's stomach tightened just a little, but he told himself it was okay. After all, the boy in the story had been asleep when the snowman woke him. Maybe Akihiko needed to be asleep for it to work? Yes, that must be it; Santa's magic wasn't meant to be seen in action, not by children's eyes.

However, as he was padding towards the four-poster bed in his slippers, Akihiko paused. His head turned in the direction of the fireplace. Only embers remained in the hearth, glowing orangey-red against the mince pie and glass of milk that Akihiko had left there for Santa. He'd though that would be enough, but… perhaps he should also write him a letter? Yes, a letter. Just in case.

Retrieving his notebook and pencil from under his pillow (he liked to keep them there in case of a noteworthy dream, or sudden story ideas at two in the morning), Akihiko carried them over to the fireplace. There he settled himself in front of the hearth. As quietly as he could, he tore out a sheet of paper and, leaning on his notebook and relying on the dying firelight to see, he began to write.

 _Dear Santa-san_ (they called him 'Father Christmas' here in England, but Akihiko preferred the Japanese name. He figured the jolly saint wouldn't mind) _,_

 _I am sorry this letter is so late. I am also sorry if any of my English is wrong. I do not usually write to you, but this year I have been very good and I also have a wish that I really really need to come true._

He hesitated, chewing his pencil, before continuing:

 _I do not want any toys. I do not even want any books or bears. I only want somebody to play with on Christmas day._

 _I have made a friend for myself out of snow. You can find him outside my bedroom. If it is not too much trouble, will you please bring him to life so I can play with him?_

The pencil tapped the paper several times.

 _Only for a day. Please._

He should end it there before it got too long. Akihiko thought for a moment. What was that English phrase his father always put at the end of letters? Ah, yes-

 _Yours sincerely, Akihiko Usami (age 8)_

 _P.S. Haruhiko has not been good so please give him lots of coal._

 _P.P.S. It would also be nice if you could give the snowman some arms._

There. Satisfied after re-reading the letter twice, Akihiko laid the page to one side before slowly, carefully moving the guard away from the hearth. He wasn't supposed to go near the fire- he was supposed to ask a servant to do it- but it was necessary if he wanted his letter sent on time. Besides, it was Akihiko's room, wasn't it?

A small pile of chopped wood sat in a basket beside the fireplace. Taking a decent-sized one, Akihiko reached gingerly into the hearth and dropped it on top of the dimming embers. Then he pointed the ancient pair of bellows towards it, just like he'd seen Tanaka do, and gently pumped them once, twice, three times. Bright orange sparks danced.

Once the flames had grown and Akihiko could feel their heat on his face, he picked up his letter. He was careful not to set it or himself alight as he reached into the fireplace again. No sooner had he opened his hand did the draft from the flames snatch it away from him, sending it flying upwards. It disappeared up the chimney chute with a rustle.

Akihiko sat there a moment longer, smiling faintly, the firelight flickering in his eyes. Then he rose to his feet.

There was an empty mug on his bedside table from when Tanaka had brought him his evening cocoa. Akihiko carried it on its tray to the door and left it on the floor outside, where a servant would clear it. Then he adjusted the mince pie and glass of milk again, making sure they were in a spot where Santa would see them. Finally, he opened his chest of drawers, pulled out the freshly washed and ironed stocking with his name on it, and hung it on his bedpost.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Akihiko worried briefly that the fire wouldn't die down by the time Santa arrived and he wouldn't be able to visit Akihiko. But, he realised as he shuffled out of his slippers and dressing gown, he could always use one of the other chimneys. Besides, his bedroom was warm now, and bathed in a soft orange glow.

He snuggled under the padded quilt of his four-poster and lay still for a while, listening. The wind outside was moaning; he could hear it shaking the tree branches. The fire crackled. Now and then a creak or a groan would sound from somewhere deep within the manor, which dated back to Victorian times and was forever complaining of its old age.

Akihiko didn't bother calling goodnight to his parents. They wouldn't care if he did. In fact, when he was shut away out of their sight like this, Akihiko was pretty sure they forgot he even existed.

Usually this bothered the small boy, and he would lie awake and thinking about it for hours. But not tonight. Unlike most children, Christmas Eve was the one night of the year Akihiko was able to fall asleep without any trouble.

For even if his parents saw him as a non-entity, even if his brother hated him, even if he had no friends at school, every year a kindly old man was still willing to fly, through cold wind and snow, all the way across the world to Akihiko's house and squeeze down his dirty chimney chute, just so that his one wish would be granted…

That meant there was _somebody_ who cared about him, right?

Turning his head on his pillow, Akihiko gazed out through the window into the night sky. Perhaps if he watched it for long enough, he'd catch a glimpse of Santa and his reindeer, silhouetted against the full, silver moon?

 _No, I have to sleep. It won't work if I don't sleep…_

Hurriedly, Akihiko closed his eyes. He needed this to work. It _would_ work; no matter what Haruhiko said to him ("You _do_ know those are just childish stories, don't you?"), Akihiko knew that the Christmas magic he felt in his heart right now was real.

At least… he hoped it was real. Oh, he hoped, he hoped, he hoped.

And he would keep hoping, he resolved as he lay there, all the way through the night. For as long as he hoped, he could believe that he would wake up tomorrow and run to the window to see his snowman friend waiting for him, smiling and waving, and the two of them would swoop into the sky away from the old, dusty manor and Akihiko's sneering brother and stone-faced parents, to some place far, far off where they would play together all day long.

That was the key. He just had to keep believing.

"Please, Santa-san," his small voice whispered into the night, "let me share this Christmas with someone else."

A whistle of wind was his only answer. Closing his eyes once again, Akihiko sighed, and drifted gradually into contented dreams wherein he and his snowman friend were soaring through the sky, the stars twinkling above them, the trees and rooftops spread out under a blanket of pure white snow below.

* * *

Ten years later, halfway across the world in the heart of Tokyo, another eight-year-old boy was also whiling away Christmas Eve in front of his window.

He couldn't see much. Whilst it rarely snowed in the city, frost was a regular occurrence, and today there was a thin layer clinging to the glass in front of Misaki's face. It made feathered patterns across the window pane. They were pretty, but they distorted his view. Not that there was a whole lot to look at anyway; the sky this evening was as dull and grey as concrete, blending in almost flawlessly with the countless, colourless buildings that made up the skyline. That was all Misaki could see through his icy window. A grey smudge.

Absently, he dragged a finger along the steamed-up inside of the glass. Droplets of condensation gathered and rolled down the window, like tears. Misaki exhaled, slowly, and even though he was indoors he swore he could see his own breath. Everything was frozen.

On that particular Christmas Eve, in fact, Misaki felt frozen too.

Retracting his numb finger, the boy returned to sitting cross-legged on his futon. His new room was still rather bare, with a thin, frayed carpet and walls of cracked plaster that his _The Kan_ posters hadn't done much to revive. It was chilly, too; the whole apartment was. Still, Misaki would never complain. He knew this was all his Nii-chan could afford.

Thinking of Takahiro, Misaki felt something clutch at his heart. His brother would usually be tucking him into bed by now, but Misaki had a feeling they wouldn't be seeing each other at all tonight. Takahiro's face had been drawn and haggard- more so than usual, that is- when he'd come home from work, with dark semi-circles cradling his eyes, and they'd barely exchanged any words over dinner. Furthermore, once Misaki had retreated to his bedroom, he was pretty sure he'd heard the clink of glass bottles coming from the living room. It was a noise he'd come to associate with his brother's very worst days.

 _Poor Nii-chan_ , Misaki thought, watching his sigh dissolve into a misty cloud. Of course he didn't blame Takahiro. The past few months had been pretty overwhelming for him- for both of them. It made sense that tonight would be one of those times where everything was simply too much for the elder Takahashi brother, to the point that he felt the need to numb himself.

No, Misaki didn't resent his brother for neglecting him tonight. Rather, he only wished there were some way- any way- for him to lessen Takahiro's burden, especially since he'd been working so hard for his little brother. If only he knew how. But (as the adults kept saying, over and over again) he was so young, too young to understand these things.

There was, however, one thing he knew he could do.

Getting off his futon, Misaki crouched on the worn carpet and lifted the mattress. It wasn't a very original hiding place, but in the tiny apartment there weren't many other options. Reaching underneath, Misaki felt around until his fingers closed around something small, soft and furry.

He pulled it out, inspected it. The teddy bear was a little squashed, its golden fur rumpled as if it had just crawled out of hibernation, but nevertheless intact. A small, red bow was tied crookedly around its neck, and Misaki adjusted it with care as he studied the plush toy, biting his lower lip.

Hopefully Takahiro would like it. It was only small, but it was the biggest one that the contents of Misaki's piggy bank was able to buy, even after weeks of scraping together savings in secret (Misaki would tell his brother that he was going to play with friends, then spend the afternoon doing chores for any stranger who would let him, scrubbing their cars or weeding their frozen gardens with frostbitten hands). Still, if he could give something back to Takahiro, however small, it was worth it. His brother had watched him work himself to the bone, day in, day out, for months now, keeping food on the table in front of Misaki and a roof over his head; he had to do _something_ in return, even if Takahiro had told him multiple times that he didn't want a Christmas present.

Besides… this was the only way Misaki knew how to make his brother smile again. Even if it was only for the briefest of moments.

Carrying the bear with him, Misaki tiptoed out into the hallway. The air here was even colder than that of his bedroom, the floorboards like ice beneath his bare feet, and goosebumps prickled his skin beneath his thin, cotton pyjamas. He shivered. When he reached the living room door Misaki paused for a moment, bracing himself; he knew what he was going to see when he opened it.

The door swung open with barely a sound. Immediately, the pungent odour of alcohol struck Misaki as he entered- nothing like the nostalgic aromas of gingerbread and friend chicken he was used to at this time of year. Peering through the gloom, Misaki's eyes wandered expectantly over to the couch and sure enough, there was the dark shadow of his older brother.

Tentatively, the small boy approached him. Takahiro lay, twisted, on his side, one arm hanging off the couch, his glasses askew and his dark hair dishevelled. An empty bottle and glass stood by his limp hand. As Misaki came closer, the even, alcohol-tinged breaths told him his brother was already asleep.

He made sure to be as silent as possible as he gathered up the bottles, depositing them in the overflowing trash can before heading to the airing cupboard in search of a blanket. Takahiro didn't once stir, even as Misaki removed his glasses and carefully re-arranged him so that he was lying more comfortably on his back. The younger boy was practised at this by now. Slipping a pillow beneath Takahiro's head and spreading the blanket over him, he stood still for a moment beside the couch, watching his brother; the steady rise and fall of his chest; the softness of his sleeping face.

Seeing him so peaceful like this, Misaki almost wished he'd never wake up.

Very, very slowly, so as not to disturb him, he lifted the corner of the blanket and tucked the teddy bear into the crook of his brother's arm. Now it would be the first thing he woke to. And maybe, just maybe, when Takahiro opened his eyes on Christmas morning to a cold, empty flat, Misaki's gift would bring him at least some measure of comfort.

He hoped so. As he watched Takahiro nuzzle the bear's golden fur in his sleep, the guilt was already eating away at Misaki's heart once again.

Unable to stay any longer, Misaki tucked the blanket under his brother's chin, and with a whispered "Merry Christmas, Nii-chan", returned to his own bedroom with stinging eyes.

The grey outside Misaki's window had blackened when he climbed back into his futon. Ice crystals glistened coldly on the glass. It was nights like this that Misaki- shivering as he lay in darkness, alone- began to feel as though the entire world had frozen over like his window, and the sun would never come up again. His life felt like one everlasting winter night. Was this how every Christmas Eve would be from now on?

He'd foolishly hoped the festive season might actually rekindle a little light for him and his brother. Misaki really should have known better. Christmas was a time for spreading love and joy, after all; a time for family.

And as of this year, the Takahashi brothers were only half a family. All Christmas had brought them was yet more darkness. They were drowning in it.

Beneath his blankets, the tremors wracking Misaki's body began to increase.

 _It's all my fault…_ The guilt was piercing him like daggers now. It was too much. He wanted all of this- the cold and the tiny apartment and his brother passed out drunk on the couch- to go away, and to wake up tomorrow in his old house, to sit in front of a warm fire and open presents with his family, to play in the snow, to eat fried chicken around the dinner table and laugh together. He choked aloud this time, "It's all my fault…"

Hot tears welled in his eyes, and the boy sat up to draw his knees into his chest, pressing both hands over his mouth to muffle his sobs. Teardrop after teardrop cascaded down his face, each one falling faster than the last, and Misaki was so cold now, he felt they might freeze to his skin.

The boy would never be sure how long he cried for; it could have been minutes or hours. All he knew with certainty was that at some point, he had ended up on his knees, clasped hands still trembling in front of him as he bowed his head.

"Santa-san," he prayed in a stuttering whisper, "I'm not sure if you're even real, but if you are, please, let me have one Christmas wish.

"Please give me my family back. Let us go home again. Let Nii-chan go to school like he wanted and be happy. He doesn't deserve what happened, and n-neither did…"

His voice began to crack. With a small, sniffly hiccup, he went on, "I miss them so much, Santa-san… I j-just want my mommy and daddy…"

Even as he spoke the words, Misaki knew it would never be. He wiped his eyes, pointlessly, before folding his hands together in his lap again.

"Or, if not them… someone. Someone to be with me at Christmas. I-I'm sorry to be so selfish, but, please, I don't want to be a-alone anymore… I n-need someone… Anyone… P-Please…"

Offered up into the blackness of that cold Christmas Eve, Misaki wept out a hundred prayers and apologies before sleep finally took him, each one leaving his lips as an icy mist that drifted away into the night.

* * *

Tokyo saw another ten Christmases before either boy's wish was granted.

The last of these Christmas Eves was drawing to a close, and all across the city the festivities were gradually winding down. Huge neon stars and snowflakes flickered out; the combined lilt of laughter and Christmas carols slowly died away; shops and restaurants closed their shutters, households clicked their lights out one by one, and the world settled into a peaceful slumber beneath the stars as it awaited the special day.

Eventually, only one window remained lit within the quiet city. Right at the top of a towering condominium, a square of warm, yellow light shone out into the night sky.

It was spacious yet cosy inside the penthouse suite. The glow was coming from the abundance of fairy lights that were strung about the apartment, snaking around banisters and doorways, softening and brightening again in a mesmerising pattern. A huge fir tree stood in the middle of the living room, and they were wrapped around that also; they twinkled in the shiny surfaces of each colourful adornment lining the branches, red and gold and silver and blue and green. A star at the very top completed the scenery, glittering down at the two figures below.

Akihiko and Misaki- no longer young, lost souls but grown men- exchanged no words as they lay on the couch at the foot of the tree. All was silent save for the ticking of the landing clock, their own breaths and Akihiko's heartbeat, which was slowly lulling Misaki into sleepiness as he rested his head against the older man's chest. Long fingers nestled in his dark hair. Neither of them felt the need to say anything; for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were both as content as could be.

Because after so many years of loneliness, something- be it pure chance, the fabled festive magic or simply fate- had finally brought them together for Christmas Eve.

Both men had their eyes closed as they stayed wrapped in each other's warmth, but they cracked them open at the sound of a tuneful, high-pitched bell, drifting down the stairs towards them; the clock, chiming twelve times. It was midnight.

A small finger poked Akihiko's chin.

"Hey. Merry Christmas, stupid rabbit."

Misaki's voice was drowsy but playful. Smiling, Akihiko snuck a hand under the younger man's chin and tilted his face upwards. A pair of eyes greener than any Christmas tree met his own, hazy with sleep but sparkling with happiness. Akihiko didn't stop gazing into them for a moment as he melted into soft lips. They kissed long and lovingly, only drawing apart for air, and Akihiko admired Misaki's pink blush for a moment before tucking the dark head beneath his chin again, whispering into silky, sweet-smelling hair.

"Merry Christmas, my love."

And so, at last, it was.

* * *

 **Hoo boy was that cheesy... Ah, well. I had fun writing it. :3**

 **Thank you for reading. To all of my fabulous fujoshi followers out there, I hope you had a great Christmas and wish you a yaoi-tastic New Year. :)**

 **Happy holidays!**


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